The Red Letter
by RdGyal771
Summary: Hermione and Ginny narrowly escape a battle alive and it forces them to enact a plan to go back in time to 1944. They plan to investigate and support a little known movement that, if it succeeds, could change everything. Will they succeed or will the Knights of Walpurgis, as well as their own traumas, catch up with them in a way that has dire consequences for the future?
1. Chapter 1: The Escape

Hello dear readers,

Here's a tale for ye that has been forcing its way into the daylight, out of my daydreams, for a while now. I've been writing down thoughts and ideas and recently started organizing them. Half the time it's because I read some great story on FF, or off of it, but then I'm disappointed or bored or it's beautiful but still not quite what I was hoping to see. Because of course I have impossible hopes, and I want too much blah blah blah. I'm sure I can't even live up to half the things I'm pinning on this story. And then I guess I can try again!

My first story here, I welcome all your feedback and advice. I have a full outline and quite a bit written. But nothing is too concrete yet. I'm trying to spit this out in the midst of a hectic life and will operate on the idea that I'd rather put something out that's unpolished than agonize over details. Beware, be wary. Rated M for a reason. Themes of romance, adventure, friendship, trauma, pettiness, humor redemption...or so I hope.

Summary -

Hermione and Ginny narrowly escape a battle alive and it forces them to enact a plan to go back in time to 1944. They plan to investigate and support a little known movement that, if it succeeds, could change everything. While Ginny goes into the countryside to learn about what is happening on the ground, Hermione is stationed at Hogwarts to do outreach with the house elves and professors...and students. Their missions are disrupted by a too curious Tom Riddle and his Knights of Walpurgis who are in their seventh year. Their own demons are also finally catching up with them after seven years of war and trauma. Will they succeed or will they get caught up in the past in a way that has dire consequences for the future?

CHAPTER 1: The Escape

Running through the corridors under a disillusionment spell while curses flew around her was not how Hermione planned to finish her day. She was supposed to stay with Harry and Ginny at Grimmauld Place to have a normal evening before continuing their hunt for horcruxes. In the middle of the day, they got a fire call that fighting broke out at Hogwarts. In a flash they were in Hogsmeade and entering the castle with other members of the Order.

There was fighting everywhere, the battle was destroying the castle and the Order was retreating quickly. The Order of the Phoenix had figured out a way to portkey people to safety out of the castle, and they were currently deploying that plan, but if she left with them now she wouldn't be able to come back for who knows how long. And then it could be too late. She had to leave now.

Hermione gasped as a spell hissed past her head. It caused the rock behind her to crumble and break away. She could smell burnt hair. Hers? She wasn't sure if she was spotted or if it was a stray hex. The blood on her shoes left half footprints every few steps. She wasn't sure if it was hers. She knew she was injured, but the adrenaline made it hard to pinpoint where she might feel pain later. Anyway, there was no time to think about that.

The castle was in chaos. Screams and explosions echoed across it. The hallway she was careening down was empty, but she clutched her wand tightly, ready for anyone she might encounter. She had to fight the urge to turn back and shoved down the feeling that she was making a cowardly choice. She had made a promise. She had to follow through with it. Hermione skidded to a halt at Gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office, or former office, and took a frantic look around before pointing at the ceiling and whispering, "Telae abscondum."

A curtain shot out of her wand and stood in the air effectively blocking Hermione from view. It was charmed to look exactly like the scene that it hid, minus the people. Save for the light ripples in the breeze, it did a good job.

Hermione looked around her once again, her heart pounding in her throat, and facing the gargoyle she whispered, "Felix felicius!" Nothing happened.

"Polyjuice! Dreamless sleep! Veritaserum!" The gargoyle stared back at her. "Ugh." She looked behind her once more, dancing nervously in place as if ready to sprint or duck or jump at a moment's notice. The hallway behind her was dark and empty, rippling behind the curtain as if it was a dream. If she were deaf to the battle raging in the castle, it would look almost peaceful.

"Wolfsbane?" she said, desperation creeping into her voice. She gave up guessing and extended her left arm, grimacing in pain, and carefully pressed her thumb into the gargoyles tongue, it glowed red. A last resort way of entering the headmaster's office that Dumbledore had devised just for Order members, though only a few of them knew about it. The gargoyle leapt aside and Hermione followed the stairs up to the office, whipping out her time turner as she went, and praying that Ginny was waiting for her at the top.

Hermione entered Dumbledore's office and clamped a hand over her mouth, barely stifling a scream. On the red carpet in front of Dumbledore's desk, well, old desk, lay Ginny on the floor, arms at her side as if she was placed there, and looking like pale, cold death. Blood darkened the carpet around her head.

Hermione locked and warded the door behind her and got on her hands and knees and softly felt Ginny's pulse with her wand hand, too shocked to cry, the cold focus brought by battle numbing her senses. There was a pulse, a strong one.

"Oh thank god," she breathed. Ginny's eyes flew open, and upon seeing a wand at her neck she sat up so fast she knocked heads with Hermione who tumbled backward, her wand flying out of her hand and rolling under a large clock at the far end of the room.

"Merlin's sweaty bollocks Gin! Were you playing dead?" Hermione exclaimed, annoyance flaring as she glared at Ginny and sat up and to rub her forehead.

"I wasn't sure how to meet you here and ensure it was you! I had to think fast." Ginny rubbed her own forehead, a red bruise blooming on her pale skin, but she was otherwise unharmed Hermione noted, just a few nicks and cuts. Ginny had always been better than Hermione at dodging spells, her quidditch reflexes came in handy. Hermione also noticed how being an athlete helped her deal with the stress of battle. The girl had stamina. She knew how to lead and work together under pressure. There was also another quality, grit or something like that, that made it so that Ginny, even after two years of the war, alighting between Hogwarts and Grimmauld place as a spy in the castle and a soldier outside of it for the Order, was still fresh faced and regal – though sleepless nights made lilac shadows under her eyes and her rare temper more frequent.

Through it all she still retained her personality. Still quick to crack a joke or comfort a friend. But she was also often quiet and withdrawn, when that started, Hermione wasn't sure. Who knows what could be due to war or due to regular teenage behavior. As Ginny got older she only grew more well rounded, combining so many qualities of the other Weasleys in fits and bursts. Navigating and charming a large family of brothers made her extremely adaptable, she could eat plate after plate of food and go toe to toe with Ron's temper, play quidditch as well as Charlie, send curses and break them as quick as Bill, talk politics like Percy, and was as quick witted as the twins. Her growth spurt in the last year made her slightly taller than Hermione and the girl's physical differences grew from there. Slim versus curvy, fair skin versus olive, sleek straight hair versus tight curls. One lighthearted and sarcastic, the other more serious and fretful - at least on the surface. They both had become skilled in masking their emotions, in plowing through difficult times with aplomb, in enduring more than they should have to.

Ginny pointed her wand at the rug and then at herself, cleaning the blood off. "I wanted to hide in case a Death Eater came in, but then I didn't want to be hexed halfway to London because I scared the golden girl. And then I feel a wand at my neck and I nearly had a panic attack but then you had spoken and I realized it was you but I freaked out anyway." She paused. "I reacted too much maybe."

"Just a bit," Hermione muttered, still rubbing her own forehead where Ginny knocked heads with her. She was collecting a library of injuries it seemed. "Clever idea I suppose. Was that fake blood on the floor?"

"Weasley's finest fake blood capsules!" Ginny said with far too much excitement for the situation of the day.

Hermione couldn't help but smirk. "I don't see how that could have helped you if Bellatrix and ten other Death Eaters barged in." She stood up and tried to dust herself off with one arm. Her other arm, injured, was hugged to her chest.

"Oh I had a plan." She opened her palm to show the glittery black crystals of instant Peruvian darkness powder. "Once they were all confused and scared in the darkness, I would set off some fireworks in my pocket and after they all maimed each other, I would petrify them and banish them to the chamber of secrets."

"Wow sounds like fun," Hermione said, distractedly, "you really are a Weasley. Both in the pleasure you take from the theatrics and in your daftness in keeping explosives on your person during a battle." She turned to where her wand was partially hidden under a large clock. "Accio wand," she said, and it flew into her waiting hand.

"I have them in an unbreakable leather pouch." Ginny sniffed. "Nice Hermione! You're getting so good at wandless magic. You didn't hesitate a second."

"I actually have my second wand magically glued to my forearm." Hermione said sheepishly.

"Genius. but not very elegant." Ginny said feeling the clunky piece of wood in Hermione's left arm.

"Ow! Be careful! It's hidden by the robes and my sweater anyhow. We'll worry about elegance later."

"Maybe we can get some muggles to help us make a magic wand computer chip." Ginny said, trying to hide her worry as she studied Hermione's torn robes, singed hair, and noticed that she was favoring her left leg. Hermione seemed alert, but Ginny knew her well enough to tell that she was a little dazed.

Hermione paused to think about it. Her cousin was a computer engineer. Maybe she would give him a call if she had some down time...

The girls snapped to attention as they heard sounds coming from the hallway. They looked at each other worriedly.

"Oh bloody hell, stand in the middle of the carpet." Hermione whispered.

They took their places in front of Dumbledore's, well, now Snape's, desk. Hermione wrapped the time turner's thick golden chain around both of their necks, wincing as she had to extend both arms to finish the motion. Ginny grabbed the hour glass and held it tightly so Hermione could cast and turn the dials at the same time. She focused on the time turner, the result of nearly a year of work with ancient magics manipulated by a group of wizards and other magical folk in the Order. A series of runes engraved in the gold decorated the outside, extra rings added jumps and precision, a silvery substance swirled in a column in the core. The sand inside was as black as instant Peruvian darkness powder, its crystals so large they looked like gemstones. "It should be midnight when we arrive and then we can take the portkey out of Hogwarts to regroup and start the school year off."

Ginny nodded, her throat clenching as she looked down at their hands to notice the black nail polish they were both wearing. It was from a rare moment of carefree self care the weekend before. They had spent an afternoon at Grimmauld place, feeling lazy and full after one of Molly's Sunday lunches had the contributions of some rabbits they had caught while on an outing with Firenze and the other centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. They had convinced Harry and Ron to do their nails too. Harry changed his mind after Ginny painted his thumb and though Ron sat through both hands being painted, he threw a fit when he realized he couldn't get rid of it with a simple scourgify. They had laughed to the point of crying. When would they have a night like that again?

The doorknob rattled. Ginny eyed it warily and raised her wand. "Come on Hermione." She said more to herself than to her curly haired friend.

"I need just a few more moments," Hermione said, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she carefully alighted her wand on different runes with each turn of the rings. One wrong move and they could end up in the wrong year, and possibly be stuck there. The protection charm on the crystals of the time turner might not hold up so well against the force of a mistake.

The door knob rattled again. Something rammed into it making the room shake. "Severus, the mudblood is in there, I know it! I can taste it!" A voice shrieked.

"Quite odd that they should find a way to enter when I just changed the password." Crooned a familiar, nasally voice. They could feel the shudders of Hermione's wards coming down.

Ginny's eyes danced from the door to the time turner and back again. "I think I just about have it," Hermione whispered. "1947, 46, 45..." Ginny's hands were white around the time turner and her wand.

"Alohomora." said a weedy voice. The lock clicked. The door knob turned.

"Bombardium!" Ginny bellowed.

"44!" Hermione released the time turner and the last thing they saw were three shocked death eaters being blasted back into the hallway.

**Entering Dippet's office in 1944**

"Headmaster, surely I can be of some sort of use over the next summer. If I continue my independent research through seventh year, I'm sure I'll graduate with more questions than answers. A few more months helping around here while finalizing my research - it would make all the difference."

A handsome young boy with not a hair out of place sat with a crystal teacup cradled in his lap. Facing him, behind an intricately carved mahogany desk sat Headmaster Dippet, a delighted expression on his face.

"Why of course Tom. I read over your research proposal – quite the tricky subject matter - and it seems most advanced for a Hogwarts student, but I'm sure it's nothing you cant manage. What with your marks and work habit."

Tom kept his face composed and a polite smile graced his features.

"Headmaster, if I may, this kind of magic is most volatile. As transfiguration professor, I believe I would find it hard to advise a student alone. One needs an expert in this sort of...niche topic. There are also questions of ethics that are entirely missing from the proposal." Dumbledore looked over his half moon spectacles at Tom.

Tom made eye contact, his posture relaxed as he smiled at the professor. "Of course, Professor Dumbledore. I completely agree with you, which is why I think this research lies more in the field of defense against the dark arts than transfiguration. Professor Merrythought is more than happy to supervise–"

A flash and a bang erupted in the center of the room, in the middle of the three men gathered and seated together. All of the glass in the office shattered. Tom squeezed his eyes shut just as his teacup exploded in his palm.

"-And eat flaming death!" Ginny finished screaming. The time travellers are blasted to opposite ends of the room by Ginny's bombardment spell. Ginny slid into the wall by the window, and Hermione crashed into the same old clock that her wand rolled under, a mere minute ago.

Ginny recovered quickly and hid the time turner in an inner robe pocket before jumping to her feet. They were unaffected by the sonic boom of their arrival, but it deafened the three men and as the dust settled, their ears started ringing.

"Ohhh." Hermione groaned, her face pinched as she clutched at her arm and tried to sit up. "I much preferred your bat bogey hex. Less collateral damage."

Ginny was at Hermiones side in two leaps. There seemed to be more blood than before. "Oh bloody hell. We need to get you to the hospital wing." Ginny turned to Dumbledore, "She needs a healer." But the men looked at her with strange worried expressions, saying nothing. Hermione slumped to the floor.

"Auditus restituet." Dumbledore said with a flourish of his wand. The ear ringing stopped for the three men. Tom felts his eardrums pop painfully.

"Oh dear oh dear. Students apparating into Hogwarts! What has happened. What is happening?" Dippet wrung his hands, eyes darting from the mess on his desk to the papers floating to the ground, around the room, to the fierce glare of the red-haired girl, to the glass covering his hands, to the other girl slumped on the floor, to Dumbledore who looked far too serene and finally, to Tom who was frozen in place as if he were a statue.

"Ohh." Hermione lifted a hand to her head. She attempted to sit up again. Ginny held her down. "Don't move!" She hissed. "Who knows what other damage we've caused." Hermione slumped back to the floor, her eyes still closed and her expression relieved, as if someone said she could take a nap now.

"How did you get into my office? And where are you two coming from?" Dippet said, his voice rising in pitch almost to a falsetto.

Ginny stuttered, unsure how to respond. They hadn't planned on encountering people, let alone the headmaster and future headmaster of Hogwarts. How could she explain that they were in the middle of war and came back for...well she couldn't tell them that.

"Portkey." Hermione moaned from the floor.

Ginny glanced at Hermione uncertainly but took the cue smoothly.

"Uh, Headmaster Dippet, I presume?" Dippet nodded vigorously. "We're transfer students. We took a portkey from my house in...in France. A lot of things happened at once and maybe the portkey was faulty, I don't know how we ended up here instead of at my Uncles house, Ginny released Hermione gently and stood, dusting herself off, though she didn't even need to try. Compared to the dust and glass covering Dumbledore, Tom and Dippet, and Hermione's torn and blood soaked robes, she looked like she had just finished getting ready for the day. "But we really must leave now because I – I have to meet my uncle before he leaves for a trip."

"You will do no such thing until we clear this matter up!" Dippet's face reddened in indignation. "Students are not allowed to portkey into Hogwarts! Not without express permission. And into the blasted headmasters office at that!"

Ginny was barely paying attention to his cries. She was surveying Hermione's injuries. They wanted to make it to Hogwarts anyways, she thought. Hermione might not last a day if she didn't get medical treatment. Maybe this accident happened for a reason. She looked up, realizing Dumbledore and Dippet were speaking now.

"...current situation, it's not really that surprising, Armando. It's been a long summer, we still have much to do. I'm sure we can save the questioning for after both of these girls see a healer or get their-"

"Yes." Ginny interrupted. Dippet raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Well, not me. I think Hermione might want to stay, seeing as she cannot walk. She can explain when she feels better but basically...we had a surprise visit as we were leaving...which caused us to rush and leave and crash land here. I do apologize but I, however, as I said, I cannot stay. I must dash!" She stepped back as she continued to speak. "See you at the welcoming feast! And before Dippet could say anything she pointed her wand at her watch. "Portus" she said, locking eyes with the boy on the far end of the room. Her mouth dropped to the floor as she realized who it was before disappearing from the office.

Tom, paralyzed with shock for the minute since the sonic boom, was half covered in shards of glass. Hermione seemed to have fainted in the corner. Tom surveyed the rest of the office. The bookshelves were slanted, leaning over each other like drunk men, and all the papers from Dippet's desk were strewn across the office. Dippet's short hair and robes were windswept, as if he had just come back from a joyride on a Cleansweep. He turned his head to Dumbledore, who looked regal and immaculate save for a fine layer of dust that was settling on everything. He was still holding his fully intact crystal tea glass.

Dippet, also covered in shards of glass noticed what Tom was staring at. "Albus, how...?"

Dumbledore was still staring after Ginny and started upon hearing his name, as if noticing Tom and Dippet for the first time. He followed Dippet's gaze to his tea cup and chuckled. "A habit of my less than graceful youth. I always cast an unbreakable charm on my teacups." He placed it onto Dippet's mahogany desk and drew his wand. "Now, we should see this new student to the infirmary. Shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome (back) to Hogwarts

Thank you all for your reviews and follows! I updated the last chapter and added an intro and summary. I had trouble decided on what Hermione's new fake last name should be. Any thoughts after you read this chapter, let me know! Maybe I'll change it.

Chapter 2: Welcome (back) to Hogwarts

Hermione blinked open her eyes, confused, the events of the day rushing back to her. She sat up suddenly. She was in Hogwarts in the past, they made it. She noticed movement to her side and looked over to see Dumbledore was sitting at her bedside. He was quietly wrestling with what appeared to be a large children's book about wolves. Two snarling and snapping wolves kept trying to jump off of the page, though when they would get close to the future headmaster, they would just lick his face as if they were harmless puppies. Behind him, through the windows, she could see that it was nighttime.

"Ah you're finally awake!" he said, a slight strain in his voice as he slowly forced the book closed, the dogs yelping in protest.

"Yes," she said, "But I feel like I'm dreaming."

"Ah, of course. You might be a little fuzzy around the edges, seeing as, whatever adventure you came from, you were firing two spells for each one cast. Madame Sovaro had quite the shock in discovering your second wand and trying to unstick it from your arm."

"A superglue spell." Hermione blushed. Two spells at once, she thought. That would explain a lot, her exhaustion, firing in odd directions including at her own leg. "Ok, that probably wasn't my brightest idea. But I was under a lot of stress and pressure. I haven't slept more than a few hours at a time since...I don't even know. I just wanted a backup plan in case...in case..." She couldn't continue and fell silent, staring at her hands.

Dumbledore looked at her with sincere sympathy in his eyes. "It's always good to plan. Though of course, lack of sleep can make loony plans seem quite logical. I suppose you don't want to tell me what was the cause of this stress where you're from? And who your friend wanted to, what was it, oh, 'eat flaming death?'"

"Um...well, we didn't mean to cause a commotion. It was, you see, a family squabble, her - her brothers, they surprised us." Hermione improvised.

"She did say you had some unexpected visitors, but her brothers did this to you?"

"Oh no! I mean, yes? Not...they didn't mean..." She trailed off, too tired to lie. Pathetic, I can't even string one sentence together, she thought. She felt hopeless, what really was she doing here? How could she lie to Dumbledore. Shouldn't she tell him? She looked up at him sadly.

Dumbledore regarded her with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, I suppose you should take some time to get your story together. And if you do choose to share it with me, I will be most honored to hear it. Many details can be fudged, such as the sonic boom of your arrival. It could have been the result of the spell your friend was firing as you arrived. Other details are harder to explain." he said raising his eyebrows. Hermione froze.

Dumbledore continued, "It's good that your friend hid the time turner before anyone else saw it." Hermione's eyes widened. shit.

"-but in all the commotion, no one might have noticed it anyway. An entrance like that I'm sure is one the likes of Hogwarts has never seen. You're lucky only the head boy was present."

The head boy? If they were in the right year then...future lord Voldemort saw their crash entrance?

"Will he tell people?"

"Ah, he's not much of a gossip I don't think." Dumbledore said reading her frantic expression. "Keeps mostly to himself and his small, quite tightly knit group of friends. Though I suppose you might already know that seeing as your friend seemed to recognize him." Hermione gulped again. "May I ask if your friend..."

"Ginny."

"Ginny," he repeated, "has applied and will be joining us?"

"I'm really not sure. I know she wants to, but she has some things to sort out first. Personal things. I'm sure she'll let me know soon. Maybe she'll send me an owl or..." sneak into the castle, Hermione thought.

"Of course, I hope it all works out! Now if you don't mind, would you please take this quick placement exam? It will help us decide what classes you should be, well, placed in. The spell is emptehan. Emp-tee-hon. And just point your wand here and tap once."

"Emptehan." Hermione touched the parchment in Dumbledore's hand with her wand. It immediately filled with her course load and grades from Hogwarts for the six years she attended.

"Curious, Miss Granger, I daresay no student at Hogwarts has managed to take so many classes at once, at least not yet."

"Um, Professor, my name really isn't Granger, that must be some sort of mistake."

"Is it?"

"It's...Payne."

"Hermione Jean Payne?" He looked at her over his spectacles as Hermione strained to see what else the parchment revealed about her

"It is," she stuttered.

"Of course it is, I'll correct this right away." he smiled. "Well, rest up." He said, whisking the paper into his pocket before she could see any details. "Just so you know the windows in the infirmary do not open, but the one next to your bed has always been a bit faulty. I'd say it might open at least wide enough for a barn owl." He rose, grabbing his book of werewolf children's stories, which was snoring on the nightstand.

"Thank you, professor." Hermione sighed gratefully.

"Now don't forget to take your potions he pointed to three small bottles on her night stand. Hermione nodded and Dumbledore winked and turned to leave.

"Professor, wait, what's the date?"

"September 5th, 1944." He called over his shoulder. He released the silencing charm that Hermione didn't realize was there and exited the curtain. Hermione grabbed first a shimmering black potion and gulped it down. She followed with one that was red and a last one that was chalky white. She could feel her blood rushing through her veins and a heaviness in her limbs. She got up and jiggled the window, it didn't budge.

"Alohomora."

The window gave with a faint click. She opened it a crack, reveling in the cool breeze, and then returned to her bed where she sunk down into the warm blankets. She could hear Dumbledore chatting in the hall.

"Ah, Headmaster Dippet. Madame Sovaro just gave Hermione some dreamless sleep and a few other potions for her injuries. I'm afraid she'll be out until morning." Bless him, Hermione thought as she sank into deep comfortable sleep.

Tom woke with a start. It was night outside. He ran his hand along his cheek. The glass was gone and his skin was once again smooth. He opened the curtains surrounding his bed and gazed out into the infirmary down two long rows of beds. Only one bed on the far end of the room had its curtains drawn. The school year hadn't even started, no one else would be here except that one girl.

When he peered inside the curtains he expected her to be asleep, but instead Hermione was perched on the windowsill, the stained glass window wide open. She was tying a small roll of parchment to the foot of a monstrously large, red long-eared owl. An already opened letter was sitting on her nightstand.

"Can I help you?" She said as she released the owl, not looking his way, staring out the window as it receded quickly into the distance. She was wearing a thin slip that rode up to her thighs, exposing long slender legs. Tom was surprised she didn't run and hide. Did she not realize she was in such a state of undress?

"I just came to say hello. And properly introduce myself."

She continued to gaze out the window and gave no response. The owl faded into the clear evening sky. Tom suddenly felt awkward. He shouldn't have come to this strange girl's curtained room, curtained quarters. In a slight panic, he switched into authority mode.

"You must be careful you don't fall out. With the injuries you had this morning, you must be quite unstable."

She turned to stare at him. Her hair and eyes looked black in the dim lighting. Her skin looked like she spent the summer in Greece. In the shadows cast by the lamplight, it was almost brown. Her gaze was frigid. Something that looked like revulsion and exhaustion colored her stare. Without the blood matting her hair and the pained expression on her face, she looked formidable, regal. She looked beautiful. Earlier, on the floor of Headmaster Dippet's office, she had looked so small, like a child. Tom felt a tremor of fear for some reason. He realized he was staring. She was staring back. She broke eye contact first.

"No, I suppose I am not." she said, hopping off the window. She glanced down at her letter again, studying it and then lit it on fire. "I'm afraid you caught me at a bad time, I'll be dead asleep in a minute, I just drank a sleeping draught. If it wasn't for this owl pecking at my feet I would still be asleep. She hopped into bed and buried herself in the thick blankets.

Tom walked over and quietly closed the window.

"Of course. I'll leave you to sleep. I'm Tom Riddle, head boy, by the way." He extended his hand to Hermione who, nearly invisible under the blankets, shot out an arm and shook it. "You're not supposed to open the infirmary windows."

"It was open when I woke up." She lied, her voice muffled. Then added, "what are you, afraid of breaking the rules?"

Tom was suddenly annoyed, this girl was so rude she couldn't even stand to smile in greeting or sit up to talk to him? What planet did she land from? "I'm head boy," he repeated, "I must follow them. And enforce them." Hermione snorted and the blankets shook. Tom added, "You don't seem like much of a rule breaker yourself...do you mind if I ask what your name is?"

"Helga Hufflepuff."

Tom paused and looked at the blankets, his ire spiking. "Wow, a Hogwarts founder in my own presence, well let me introduce myself as the heir of Salazar Slytherin."

Hermione slowly pushed back the blankets and looked at Tom incredulously, wondering if that was open knowledge in the castle.

"Just a joke of course," he said tightly. "It was quite an entrance you made." he said, changing the subject. "If I hadn't seen you crash land into Dippets' I might have never believed it had happened, more so now that you're not covered in blood. You don't seem like the battle ready type. It really makes me wonder how it happened. I thought I knew all the secrets of Hogwarts, but here is someone who knows how to accidentally take a portkey in." He put an emphasis on 'accidentally.'

"Hmm," Hermione acknowledged, sinking back into the blankets, seeking refuge. She wasn't prepared to answer these questions!

"Where did you come from?" he said, his face in a perfect mask of charming politeness.

"Far away." Hermione knew she was being rude, but what was he thinking barging into her room at the crack of dawn. Or evening. She wasn't quite sure.

"Far away?" he echoed, "Like London far or Thailand far?"

Like way down the time-space continuum far. Hermione sighed, she had to give some kind of answer. "I'm from France."

"You don't sound French."

"I'm French, I assure you."

"Your English is very good."

"Merci, mes parents sont anglais." Hermione with a slight smile said in a perfect French accent, though Tom thought maybe she was slurring her words. "My parents are English, but I grew up there."

"Ah, I see...did you...Dumbledore and Dippet were saying you might have been in battle with grindlewald.

Hermione frowned. "Oh?" Why was he still talking to her, she thought, he doesn't even have the courtesy to leave me alone to sleep. What planet was he from? Her vision was soft around the edges and her head was beginning to feel heavy again. She sank deeper into the blankets.

"I'm sorry, I didnt mean to bother you. You're not much of a talker are you?" Hermione wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but Tom sounded far away. Maybe he had her under some sort of spell. Shit. I should do something, she thought, but she was too tired to panic.

Hermione sighed, "What do you want me to say? I'm exhausted down to the root of my hair. I am angry and frustrated and I'm just spent."

"Of course, you've been through a lot."

"I've been through hell. I need a vacation."

"Well, what better place than Scotland for the winter." Hermione snorted.

"But I want my mum and dad too." Tom opened his mouth to speak, probably to ask another annoying question, but Hermione didn't give him a chance. "And to take a walk outside without worry. To go into town with my friends. I want pumpkin juice and hot cider and black tea and treacle tart and to watch my best friend stuff his face with so much treacle tart I lose my appetite -." Hermione broke off her rant with a sob. She clutched the white blankets around her, so much war and dirt and blood and the shock of something like clean white sheets was just...so absurd. She looked up at Tom, a model young man. The room with everything in place, perfectly painted walls, and stone floors, and a plain blue curtain surrounding her bed and serene silence behind it. She looked at Tom again and he had a strange expression on his face. Had she said that out loud?

"Of course." Tom said, "You must be hurt still, tired from the energy it takes to heal, especially seeing as the bruises looked like they were from dark spells. I only meant to check up on you as we're alone up here." Tom turned to leave.

"Wait." Hermione was tired, but wasn't she here to shake things up, change the timeline? They had the bare outlines of a plan, but this felt like an opportunity...for what, she wasn't sure. She wished she could have a moment with Ginny to strategize, to just hear her reassuring voice, but Ginny had no way of sneaking into the castle at present. So that would have to wait. She would need to make this decision on her own.

And wouldn't there be no better ally for a lonely transfer student with no name and no family in 1944 than a well connected, charismatic young lord Voldemort?

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be short with you. I am just maybe too tired to talk about where I came from right now. Things are different here. I don't know how...I need time to adjust, she sat up again in bed, trying to shake the fog from her head. She pushed the blankets back, turning to face riddle so her legs dangled over the bed.

Very different Tom thought, no Hogwarts girl would be comfortable talking to a boy in nothing but a thin, slip dress exposing far too much leg. "Is there any way I can help you adjust? What do u want to do then?"

Hermione stared at Tom, her eyes glistening, her vision going briefly out of focus. "I dont want to talk. I want to do."

"Do?" She nodded. "Do what?"

She wasn't sure why she was being so honest with him. The room was closing in on her like a blanket folding in on itself, and Tom looked like she was seeing him through the end of a telescope. Suddenly she wasn't sure if she was still sitting or not. She couldn't locate her limbs in the room to make sure they were still attached to her. "I want to make people pay for what they've done to me and my friends." she said in almost a whisper.

"So you were fighting Grindlewald then?" Tom said from the end of the telescope.

I was fighting you, she thought. Hermione felt like she was in a pleasant underwater world. "Maybe I was fighting, but what makes you so sure I was fighting against him?" She gave a small chuckle. imagine the dark lord thinking she was one of Grindelwald's soldiers.

Tom tried to hide his shock.

"I think I need some sleep. I took three potions before you walked in and...it might be taking effect." Did she say that already? She peered at Tom from under heavy lids. He seemed to be nodding his head. Her eyes were drooping and sleep was making her tongue feel dry and her body feel leaden.

She didnt even realize that she slowly sank to her side, eyes fluttering closed, or that the future Dark Lord covered her with the blanket and regarded her for a long time. Or that before he left he nearly, just nearly tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear before disappearing to the other side of the infirmary.

When she woke up in the morning there was a mug of hot cider charmed to be warm and an entire treacle tart next to her bedside. Her stomach grumbled. Did she will this into existence? She wondered.

She had had strange dreams of swimming through an underwater Hogwarts, meeting people from the past and future in one place, but being unable to speak to them or hear what they were saying to her. She shook the dreams off and changed into a set of clothes hanging in midair near her bed.

Her mind wandered to the night before. Shit, she thought. She wasn't sure what she said to Riddle. could she have already blown her cover?

She walked to his curtained room. Time for damage control.

"Riddle," she said in a loud whisper. From behind the curtain, she could hear a rustling,

"Enter."

She pulled the curtain back. "You're still here."

He was sitting in bed reading a book. He scratched his head. "That blast you came in with made me nearly deaf. Dumbledore restored some of the hearing but my left ear is still not in great shape. It apparently takes a while to grow back the little hairs inside your ear." He left out the part about faking fainting spells so nurse would keep him longer and he could spy on the new arrival.

"Ah, sorry about that. It was all quite unplanned...we had hoped to travel more discreetly. Anyway. Thanks for the treacle tart." Tom looked confused. "Oh, perhaps the house elves left it. They left a treacle tart by my bed and I just thought...well, I could have been desperately moaning about treacle tart in my sleep," she joked.

"That's a good trick, I'll have to remember it. But my roommate sometimes says the name of this girl he fancies while he's sleeping and the house elves have yet to deliver."

"Ah, if only dating were so simple."

"Who said anything about dating?" He smirked.

"Oh...what?" Hermione reddened.

"I'm just joking of course."

"Of course. Me too. Do you want some?" Tom looked confused, and before he could answer Hermione flicked her wand and the tart with two plates appeared on his night table.

They ate for a while in an awkward silence.

"You don't have any scars, but you've fought in war with dark wizards." Tom said thoughtfully. Hermione subconsciously tugged her sleeve down. Tom pretended not to notice but filed it away for later.

"I have a few. But I've found that some of the worst curses don't even leave any marks. I was once hit with a curse that almost killed me. I had no bleeding nor scar but it was extremely painful, and I had to take ten different potions a day for three months."

"Do u know what curse it was?"

"No, I silenced my attacker, which is why I probably survived. But he moved his wand like this," Hermione slashed the air holding an imaginary wand, "and a purple streak came out."

Tom frowned, "Do you remember how it felt?"

Hermione chuckled. "I wish I could forget. It felt like every bone in my chest was breaking." Tom stiffened, he had invented an spell like that last year, but there was no way...how would Grindelwald find out? Hermione continued, "It knocked me out for days. If it weren't for my friends taking me to the hospital right away I would have been a goner."

"You have a lot of near death experiences?"

"One is already a lot. Too many. I don't need anymore."

"It's behind you now. "

"I don't know. I hope so. But also...I don't know. How can you sit on the sidelines while people suffer?"

"You're too young to be a soldier."

"No. Sixteen is actually the average age of recruitment."

"Is there a wizarding draft?"

"Not formally. No. Of course not. Wizards don't even have standing armies. But they do pretty much have child soldiers. I'm practically expired at this age."

Tom looked at Hermione intensely.

"You must be well versed in dark magic by now." Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Or maybe afraid of it?"

Hermione stuffed her mouth with treacle tart and chewed on her answer. "I know a bit."

"Once again you surprise me. Not many students here would admit to dabbling in the dark arts."

"I suppose I was forced to." Tom raised an elegant eyebrow and regarded her questioningly. Hermione momentarily admired how handsome he was before looking away and focusing on what she was saying. "I...before I used to think that some knowledge was dangerous. I would never have, without the war, studied the dark arts. I used to think that it was wrong, especially in the wrong hands. It could be bad. But now I think, knowledge is power, and the most insane wizards will be the ones with access to dark spells and rituals...we need to know what they know."

"So do you think you need to murder to understand a murderer?"

"No! That's not what I mean."

"Or rape, to understand a rapist."

"That's completely different!"

"Or steal to understand a thief? Then what do you mean?"

"I mean, we shouldn't keep others in the dark. More important than that is giving people a reason to believe in justice, to have a solid sense of ethics- but not to operate by withholding knowledge."

Ethics, Tom thought for the second time in two days. He was beginning to get annoyed by that word. At least where Dumbledore was using it to censor him, this girl thought it could be a way to argue against censorship. Either way, both arguments would restrict the pure unadulterated freedom he sought. That was a conversation for another time.

"I suppose I agree with you. I think a lot of people here wouldn't though."

"Like hell if I care what they think." Tom tried to look nonchalant. But he was intrigued with the turn the conversation had taken.

They fell into comfortable conversation after that. Debating some more and speaking about dark spells for awhile before Hermione yawned. Tom looked at his watch on the night table and was surprised to see the time.

"It seems that we have been chatting for most of the morning. The other students will be arriving soon for the welcoming feast."

"Ok," she yawned again. "I'll go back and get some rest." She stood up and stretched.

Tom nodded, "I think I'm feeling tired again too." Hermione looked over and noticed his eyes were bleary. Tom reached over to his half eaten treacle tart and took another bite, chewing lazily and leaving a smudge of whipped cream on his mouth.

Hermione looked at him and smiled. The formidable mass murderer with cream at the corner of his mouth like a small child. He's still just a boy, she thought. She sat down on the side of his bed and leaned over him, bringing her hand to his face. Tom grabbed her wrist, staring at her intensely. Angrily? Hermione realized she had forgotten who she was with, and without thinking had moved to wipe the cream from his cheek.

Up close, Hermione could see his eyes were deep blue framed with thick, straight eyebrows and long lashes that were almost feminine. And she couldn't help it, she gulped as he stared intensely at her. She could also feel a blush creeping up her neck. She couldn't deny the thrill of being this close to him. He was quite handsome and even more so up close. And their conversation had been...exciting. He was smart, undeniably intelligent, and eloquent in his arguments. She was surprised at how attractive she found him. And even more so as he leveled a threatening glare at her.

"Um, Riddle?" she said, trying to hide the panic she was feeling. "Sorry, you just have something." He loosened his grip and she gently wiped the corner of his mouth with her napkin. The movement was too intimate, awkward. Hermione could feel herself burning in embarrassment. They stared at each other for a moment too long, she was hyper aware of his hand still locked around her wrist. Hermione shot to her feet, freeing her hand, and said a little too brightly, "Ok, well thanks again for the food, and the conversation." Before stealing out of the curtain like a werewolf was at her heels.

Later when she recounted the story, Ginny grimaced in disapproval, looking more sinister than she probably meant to look in the flicker of the green flames. Hermione had asked Dumbledore if she could use the floo in his office and thankfully, he left her alone and didn't ask any questions. It surprised her about old Dumbledore, well, younger Dumbledore - that he implicitly trusted her. Was he like that in her time?

"What are you playing at Hermione? You want to save the world by shagging the dark lord? That is unnecessary. And gross! He probably uses crucios as his form of BDSM." She exclaimed. They snickered at the sick joke. Their horrifying sense of humor would scandalize most, but it was one of the few things that made it all easier to bear. Being able to break up their discussions with laughter was therapeutic, but if anyone heard them...they would probably be shipped straight to St. Mungos. Ginny paused and then with a mischievous grin added, "Did you at least lick the icing off of your finger while he was watching?"

Hermione blushed, "What! Of course not." Ginny snickered evilly. "Ew! I used a napkin!

"Wow that's all golden gurl got? No fun!"

"I'm not playing at anything, I only wanted to...see what would happen I guess." Ginny gave her a look. Hermione quickly added, "He is very good looking, maybe a good disguise for getting closer to him would be to act like another simpering girl."

"I know he's good looking, duh. And you just said you did it because you forgot who you were with, it was an accident. Because you spend too much time with boys and have no boundaries."

"Yes, yes, yes. Yes. But then I realized when he grabbed my hand that I was practically in his lap. But I went for the gold anyways."

"Ok, ok, you just wiped some cream off of the evil slob's face, you didn't lick his Adam's apple."

"You don't understand Gin. It was...we spent the whole morning talking and then...I felt...I don't know if I had not left if I wouldn't have been licking his –"

"Oh my god!"

"Adam's apple! I was going to say what you just said! Not literally!"

"Ew." Ginny pretended to throw up in a bag.

"A metaphor! Not literally..."

"Snap out of it. We don't need to get closer to him, Hermione. We need to focus on building an alliance that has to do with the light. This could be dangerous. A dangerous stupid detour." Ginny spoke in a voice that rang with an authority beyond her years, and her face – which a mere moment ago was relaxed in laughter - morphed through the flickering, emerald green flames into a stern replica of Mrs. Weasley when she meant business. That's why Hermione loved their friendship. They worked so well as a team. In times of crisis, they could each be hotheaded or logical, and were good at balancing each other out. One checking the other. Most importantly, they trusted one another. This meant that they could disagree and they could argue and without taking things personally. And Hermione could feel that they just weren't going to see eye to eye on this. At least not yet.

"I think the plan needs to be open ended, open to change. We have a mission but we don't know the best way to get there."

"But it's simple and clear. It's only you and me Hermione, we don't have the girlpower to add new pieces."

"I know our plan is clear... but it's not airtight. Actually it's not clear at all. It's a list of things to do in a history cobbled together from Dumbledore's memories and that of some centaurs and house elves, and books, but the actual living reality if 1944 is a mystery. And who knows what we'll see that could prove to be an opportunity, a way forward."

Ginny sighed. "I am open to change, I know you're brilliant - but this is way off course."

"I'm not going to focus on him."

"And his Adam's apple."

"Yes. I mean no. But I guess...I'm curious. And if I can't change him with my love-," Hermione smirked and Ginny made a gagging motion causing them both to break into laughter before turning serious again. "Ok, ok. Enough. I know. Of course I'm not serious about that, but I don't know. Don't you wonder what a young Voldemort might know that could be useful? He has his own networks that could prove informative. There's also no point in making enemies. We unfortunately caught his attention in the most dramatic way possible."

Ginny chewed her lip, thinking. She was glad to see Hermione looking livelier and alert. She could see in her eyes she wasn't going to budge. But she couldn't help the pang of fear she got when she thought of a young Voldemort. Ruthless, heartless, and angry. Most of all angry. What else but that frustrated anger could cause a monster like him? But Hermione was smart. Logical. And her instincts had gotten them far. Ginny suddenly wanted to end the call and be alone. She was suddenly burning with shame at all that went unsaid in their exchange – that Hermione wasn't a stupid insecure first year that would get trapped in his lies. She swallowed it down. Hermione probably wasn't thinking that. But how could she not? "Well, I suppose his knowledge could be useful...and you will attract more flies with honey...But be careful. He's very charming." She said softly.


	3. Chapter 3: Welcoming Feast

CHAPTER 3: The Welcoming Feast

Hermione didn't see Tom again until the welcoming feast. She wished she could have met with Ginny in person but she would have to wait. Ginny did tell her that she decided she didn't want to enroll in Hogwarts just yet, she had important work to do on the outside and being confined to the castle walls would delay things. She also thought it would be a welcome change, ('This is my revenge on you horcrux hunting tossers! Have fun in class with Voldy!') for being cooped up ('Trapped, like a caged pixie!') in the castle with the Carrows while the Golden Trio wandered about. Sure, they starved and didn't exactly have fun, but they didn't deal with what Ginny dealt with back at Hogwarts. They made their schedule, mapped their own way, they didn't have teachers and the inquisitorial squad breathing down their neck. Hermione would have to wait and see if she missed it. She was looking forward to the structure of school.

When Hermione was finished using the floo, she explained her friend's absence to Dumbledore by saying that Ginny's family in England were going to get her a tutor so she could return to France frequently to be with her parents.

"Of course miss granger, what a pity," Dumbledore had said at their meeting in his office. "I'm sure Hogwarts will miss a great student. and I'm sure it would be nice for you too to have a familiar face around."

Hermione couldn't help but agree. It would be so strange to walk the halls and not know anyone. To feel like a stranger in a place that had for so long been home. Right now the only other student she knew was the last person she wanted to know.

Hermione entered the great hall with Dumbledore. To her shock, there were about twenty other students who were also transfers like her. They huddled at the back of the entrance hall, waiting for the first years to finish their sorting. Dumbledore had mentioned there were other refugees from the war, but she hadn't expected there to be so many. He said that Hogwarts had been welcoming students fleeing violence for years, and they didn't have any problems. But Hermione wasn't so sure. This year must surely be the largest influx. What kind of backlash could there be? Would she be accepted? Would the other exchange students see through her?

They had entered at the end of the sorting. Hermione split from Dumbledore and stood at the back of the other transfer students. The last first year, a scrawny child with a thick blond bowl cut and black glasses removed the sorting hat and scuttled to the Gryffindor table, smiling toothily to the resounding cheers that greeted him. Hermione couldn't help but notice how tiny he looked. A baby. Was Hermione that small when she started?

Dippet got up from the staff table and took a deep breath as if preparing to give a long speech.

"Welcome first years, I'm sure you will all make Hogwarts proud. Now this year we are also sorting some transfer students from other wizarding schools."

Hermione could see students turning to look at them and whispering to each other. She felt a prickle of dread. It was so strange to be in this place that she had called home for six years and not recognize anyone at the four house tables. She avoided the urge to look for Tom.

"This is the seventh year that Hogwarts is allowing students to transfer, something that was historically unheard of, but with Grindelwald's rise on the continent, and the muggle wars wreaking havoc in the wizarding world, France and Spain especially, we have to do what we can to help those who need help. This year over two hundred students applied for transfer,"

A gasp rang out from the students. The teachers looked unsurprised, if Hermione looked closer, some even seemed weary and tired. Two hundred students might double the size of Hogwarts. Could they really accept that many?

"-And we accepted all of them. Of course." Dippet continued, "but unfortunately, the Ministry of Magic in London has made it as difficult as possible for us to bring them here." A girl next to Hermione with long black hair and tan skin clutched at a younger boy who couldn't have been older than a first year. He looked like a male miniature of her. Her expression was drawn as she looked at Dippet. His was strangely serious for a child of his age. Hermione wondered what he went through, what his parents went through to get them here to safety. How it felt knowing, you're one of the lucky ones, but possibly facing hell once you arrive from students who hate you for no reason. Hermione looked at the other transfer students around her, they were fidgeting, not making eye contact with anyone, absolutely silent. Were they nervous, scared? This was certainly an ominous way to start a new school year.

"The education of wizarding youth, no matter where they are from, is necessary for the future of the wizarding world. Yet there are lies, gossip in the newspapers, something about, 'there's not enough room for everyone.'" Dippet paused, sighed, and removed his deep purple hat. Looking down, he took a shuddering breath. When he looked up he was red in the face, his sharp features shone, and his hawkish eyes crinkled in sadness. His voice cracked. "What's happening on the continent is grave, very grave." For someone with such a stern countenance, he was boiling over with emotion. "We forget that just twenty years ago during the goblin rebellions, half of Hogwarts' students went to Beauxbatons. Most stayed there in France." A very much alive professor Binns nodded solemnly at Dippet's side." Now when the exact same thing is happening to them, and even worse, the persecution of Muggleborns, we must open our doors. So I urge you to welcome our new students to Hogwarts, and help them feel at home." Dippet cracked a smile that bared small, perfect teeth and began to clap. The students burst into applause as the transfers all filed to the front of the great hall. Hermione wondered why it was so important to give this speech to children, maybe some of them had parents in the ministry. Surely they wouldn't hold any political prejudice against these kids, their arrival was out of their control. They didn't create the world they were fleeing from. Said the most famous muggleborn of the 90s, she realized. Children very much adopted their parents' ignorant views. Even as she passed the Gryffindor table, she noticed the students had an unmistakable an air of privilege about them. Well, compared to the stiff and scraggly group of transfer students, all the Hogwarts students seemed to have an air that only comes from being an insider, from being on home turf.

As they were sorted one by one, she learned that they were from mostly European from Yugoslavia, Italy, France and Spain. There were a few from Egypt and Algeria as well. Some, like her, had English sounding names. Was she another displaced Brit coming home after being displaced again, twice in one generation?

Hermione Jean Payne, yelled professor Dumbledore, reading from a scroll. Payne, her mothers maiden name.

She nervously walked to the seat and placed the sorting hat on her head.

_Hmmm...a time traveller! How exciting. And what an interesting mission you have. _It chuckled.

_Thank you,_ Hermione thought automatically, _I mean, can you please put me in Slytherin?_

_Slytherin? I see you want to spy on the purebloods, and make nice with their...their elves? But you are a Gryffindor through and through Miss Granger, I mean, Payne. And don't you think those are the connections that will be most valuable to you? Keep you safe as well?_

_Well, maybe, I'm not too sure, I mean, sorry, I am- just, ugh - please Slytherin? We have a plan!_

_And what a lovely plan it is!__ However, t__he ones who you seek to seduce could use the distance, you know, to make the heart grow fonder. And to keep you safe. _

_I can keep myself safe! I have a plan!_

_Ah, yes, yes, a plan. Plans are good. but I see you yourself are doubting it. _

_No! I just added a note. _

_Your neatly mapped path is unraveling as you move and breathe. _

_What?!_

_An adventure already started with a crash. _

_Well, sure but-_

_My apologies Miss Granger Payne, you would scare those prim purebloods to death! I see the attraction to Slytherin, and in your first year it could have gone a few different ways for you, but here, and now, you are most definitely a..._

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed.

Hermione huffed and pulled the hat off of her head. Well, I tried, she thought. She placed the hat on the chair and walked to join the Gryffindor table. Despite her annoyance at the hat, she couldn't help but feel a warm rush as she approached the table with its red and gold and smiling occupants.

A a lanky, stern looking girl with pin straight brown hair and horned spectacles approached Hermione.

"Pleased to meet you, Hermione. And welcome to Gryffindor. I'm Minnie McGonagall, head girl."

Hermoine gaped, professor?! "Hello, nice to meet you too." she said aloud.

"Follow me." They started walking down the table together.

"I apologize that I can't chat much. I have to help a student who somehow vanished his wand and his whole trunk. Let me know if you need anything," she said, turning to look at Hermione oddly. "Hermione, are you alright? You look a little more star struck than the usual first day of Hogwarts student."

"Uhm, yes yes," Hermione said collecting herself. "It's just a lot to take in."

Mcgonagal nodded gravely in understanding. She stopped walking. "Well, I'll give you and all the others a tour of the castle tomorrow morning. But in the meantime I'm leaving you in good hands she said, gesturing to a seat next to some students who must have been other seventh years.

"Great, thank you."

McGonagall gave her a once over, "Welcome again to Gryffindor, we're glad to have you," she nodded again and walked back down the table leaving Hermione to plunk down next to the other students who were busy eating and chatting. The energy of it all made her feel tired already.

"Hi!" A girl with a round face, sparkling eyes and hair neatly arranged into a long braid sitting across from Hermione caught her attention. She added cheerfully, "I'm Peumona Dean, and this is Audrey Lang," she said motioning to a thin girl with a sprightly ponytail next to her.

"Nice to meet you, where are you from?" said Audrey, her face splitting into a grin.

Hermione took an instant liking to them. "I'm British, but have grown up in France. I was homeschooled there until coming here."

"Oy!" exclaimed a boy with red hair and freckles who was sitting next to Audrey, "Another frenchie!"

"The second francophone this transfer season," added a boy with identical red hair and freckles.

"That girl over there," said one of the twins, "What's her name? What is it? Mousse. Ganache?"

"Panna cotta.

"No, it's chocolat." he said, pronouncing it shoo-koo-lat.

Peumona giggled but then looked indignant. "You're just saying names of different desserts."

"Red vel-veet," added Audrey absentmindedly as she cut her sausages.

"Her name is eclair!" continued Peumona.

At that, a regal looking girl with blonde tresses piled on top of her head turned her head toward the group. "Non, it's LE-clair." She said, a slight frown on her face and sounding like she was preparing to say that for the rest of the year.

"Le feezeeng wees- bee!" exclaimed one of the redheads enthusiastically.

"Elle est france," said one loudly to Leclair, as if she was deaf, towering over Hermione and pointing at her head.

Leclair looked at the redhead like she wanted to poke him with her fork.

"El est june feel!"

Her eyes flickered to Hermione. "Salut, Je suis Geneviève Leclair. Vous êtes aussi française?

"Ouais, je m'appelle Hermione Payne, du Normandy." Hermione replied. "Et vous?"

"Toulouse."

"Tres bien!" interjected one of the redheads.

"And you, what is your name?" Geneviève said sharply.

"Me?" Squeaked one of the redheads, suddenly nervous. "I'm Al Weasley."

"Weasel?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Like ze raton? Le furet?"

"No," said Al, reddening rapidly, "Weasley. Wee-ze-lee."

"Pe-tit ra-ton?" Said Genvieve with relish.

Audrey and Peumona fell over themselves giggling. Al's twin howled with laughter. Al turned to him desperately, "It's your name too, you fool!"

"Yes, but ze girl says it so funny. I think I'm in love."

"Stop laughing. Defend our honor, or at least our dignity, Leonard."

Leonard stopped laughing abruptly. "Oy, what's with the birth name? It's pass the salt Leo, how's it going Leo. But when you're mad, oh, why did you burn my muggle science books Leonard? What are you, me mum?"

Genevieve seemed sufficiently satisfied and turned to Hermione, winked and returned to the sixth year girls she was talking to before. Hermione was grateful for the summers her family spent in France when she was younger. Her French was flawless, and she knew her fake hometown well. The place hadn't changed much from the early 1900s to her time so she could speak easily about it if she had to. And Genevieve was from a different part of France, so she shouldn't know too much.

The twins stopped arguing and turned back to Hermione.

"I'm Al Weasley."

"So I heard," smiled hermione.

"And this is my brother, leotard."

"But you can call me Leo." Hermione shook his hand. "And you can call him Allie. All his real friends call him that."

Hermione smirked.

"How come some of the refugees are in Slytherin? We should use the sorting hat to scope out the bad ones. Anyone in Slytherin gets sent back across the channel."

A girl next to Leo smacked him upside the head.

"Ouch, Soraya, my love, I wasn't speaking about you. Before the semester is over I'll learn more French and send your father an owl –."

"First of all," she cut him off, "you're an idiot. Second of all, why can't we be in Slytherin?"

"Well, muggleborns are never in Slytherin."

"We're not all muggleborn Weasley."

"No? Well, I didnt realize. But why don't you- I didnt mean any offense. We're all ok being sorted here. Why not just...sort some people out."

"If you want to expel some of us from the country, why don't you expel all of those slimy snakes? Why just us?"

"Well –"

Audrey interjected. "Why don't you both focus on this nice apple pie, monseurs raton?" She giggled.

Leo and Al dug into their pies and chewed balefully.

Peumona turned to Soraya, "Don't worry about them. Boys will be boys." Soraya looked blankly at Peumona, who giggled nervously before turning back to chat with Audrey.

Soraya elbowed one of the Ratons, Hermione already forgot which was which, and smiled. He smiled down at her and elbowed her back in mock anger.

He held out a piece of pie. "Soraya take this pie and restore honor to the disgraced Weasel name!"

"It's Ramadan silly. I'm fasting."

"Oh, well, let's meet up after dark and I can feed it to you then." He waggled his eyebrows.

Hm, so muggleborn prejudice is alive and well, Hermione observed the interaction thoughtfully.

A hand jutted out from a boy sitting next to her. A boy with short brown hair and warm eyes. She took his hand. He looked oddly familiar, she was trying to place who he looked like.

"Wood, Oliver Wood."

"Yes, yes you are." Hermoine said pensively. This must be the quidditch captain's grandfather. He must have been one of a long line of Oliver Woods. They looked so similar, too. Tall, broad shoulders, strong straight nose, large brown eyes with thick lashes and -

"Um, do I have something on my face?"

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts. "What? No? Nothing out of the ordinary appears to be there," Hermoine teased.

He chuckled. "It's just that...you're staring."

"Ah, sorry," Hermione said, reddening, "You look like someone I know. Or used to know," she added.

"Well maybe that's a good sign, I'm sure it's not easy to have to transfer your last year of school. Maybe I can help you feel more at home." He gazed back at Hermione and she felt a flutter in her stomach.

"Thanks, I appreciate that." She laughed nervously. What was happening to her? She was dissolving into a giggling bumbling mess. These 1940s teenage hormones were infiltrating her battle scarred concentration. She distracted herself by shoveling food onto her plate and began to eat. With their backs to the Slytherin table she didn't notice Tom observing them thoughtfully.

Get a hold of yourself Hermione, she thought, stabbing her food. How was she going to survive an entire year stationed at Hogwarts if she couldn't maintain her composure for even one meal?

"What did those potatoes ever do to you?"

Hermione looked up at the cool stare of the Head Boy.

"They insulted my mother." She quipped.

"Did they? I'll have to write them up. And did the steak offend you somehow?"

"No, it's perfectly to my liking, I suppose."

"Good to hear," he smiled, "how are you feeling?"

"Much better. I just needed some sleep and water." Tom raised his eyebrows. "And ten different potions but who's counting," she laughed.

"I can give you a tour of the castle after dinner if you'd like?"

"I think Minnie said she'd take me tomorrow." Hermione looked around, noticing other students staring at her and Tom's conversation. She made eye contact with Oliver.

"I know it's McGonagall's turf, but who knows how long that second year will be looking for his vanished trunk."

"I guess, maybe tomorrow –."

"Wonderful." He wedged himself between Hermione and Oliver, his back to the table, forcing the other boy to scoot over. "Well - I didn't get a chance to catch you before your meeting with Professor Dumbledore. And I did rather enjoy our conversation last night. And this morning," he added more quietly. She thought she heard Oliver Wood choke on his punch. Her face flamed.

"I enjoyed our conversation in the hospital wing too." Hermione said through clenched teeth.

"Just a joke," and he said now so quietly she was sure no one could hear, "I would do nothing to dishonor a new student."

"Of course."

"I was also hoping to show you some things pertaining to our discussion that I thought you might find interesting."

Was he going to show her something related to the dark arts? Hermione's interest was immediately piqued. She had to send something to Ginny again tonight though. "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm quite tired. I could go tomorrow?"

She could feel the others listening. He smiled. "Ok. Good night." He stood up and left the Great Hall.

Oliver scooted closer to Hermione. "I can take you around if Minnie doesn't have time, Hermione, it would be my pleasure. And introduce you to the rest of the Gryffindors tonight as well."

She looked up at him and flashed him a smile. "That sounds great Wood."

"What the eff." said Audrey. "Tom Riddle? The pale niffler supreme? Are you both like, snogging friends?"

Peumona interjected. "What Audrey means is, well, what' the mermaid screech, explain yourself! Why was head boy, frigid icicle king of icebergs, here being so nice to you?"

"Snow boy smiled." said Aubrey.

Oliver looked troubled. He looked down at his food and picked at it.

"I don't know. He was just being nice. Isn't he nice to all the students? Head boy and leader and all?"

"Nice, sure." Peumona said conspiratorially, her voice low and dramatic. "Warm? Never. Ever."

"Ever." added Aubrey.

Hermione saw Minnie stalking down the table. She shoved into the seat between Audrey and Peumona. "Why was that slimy git showing his scaly face at the Gryffindor table? To my new student?!" She picked a carrot from a tray in front of her and took a bite.

Hermione warmed. Her tone reminded her of McGonagall the professor so much. Hermione opened her mouth.

"Wait! Don't start talking. I have to talk run an errand. Let's walk." She looked at the other students. "See you back at the dorms."

Once they were past the doors of the great hall, Minnie looked at Hermione and said, "Watch what you say in front of those girls."

"Who, Peumona and Audrey? They seemed nice though."

"Yeah, they're nice...Just be careful. You're new, and fresh, and naive."

"Yeah..."

"No one knows you, which could be a good thing if you want a fresh start, but it also makes you a target."

"You think those girls –."

"No, not at all. They're upstanding girls and not rumor mills at all. I'm sure you'll be great friends."

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Just don't tell them all your secrets on day one. Not to anyone."

"Just you?"

McGonagall looked at her. "I don't have time to hear all your secrets, my dear. Unless you want to do my patrols with me." She cackled.

Hermione could feel she was being honest with her. Whatever was stuck in between the lines, she trusted that she was trying to guide her.

"Has he threatened you?"

"What?"

"You know what I mean. Has anything happened."

Hermione flinched involuntarily. McGonagall stopped and looked at Hermione square in the eye. They were in a brightly lit corridor next to a window overlooking the quidditch pitch. And right next to the owlery, Hermione realized.

"Forget the gossip. That's not important. I know Riddle...there have been some rumors. I don't think anything serious has happened, but you're new, and despite what Dumbledore has told me, you seem like the type to take a sugar quill from a stranger."

Excuse me?

"I just want you to know, that whatever happens, I am not just here as a head girl, you can talk to me, and we can figure things out, no questions asked, we don't have to go to Dippet. He's not the only authority here."

"What? Minnie, what are you talking about? Nothing has happened. We just chatted for a bit when we were both in the hospital wing."

Minnie stared at her for a moment, her keen eyes seeming to believe her. "Of course. Our perfect head boy would only ever be a gentleman. But just know, you can talk to me. Not just about the Ice King. About anything. Don't let anyone push you around." She put her hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Really." But Hermione wasn't sure what she was thanking her for exactly. Minnie nodded gravely. She turned and powered toward the owlery. Hermione had to jog to keep up with her. "A little hippogriff told me you needed to send an owl tonight. So I thought I'd bring you here so no one could mind your bees nest."

"Amazing. Can I use any one?"

"Yes. From these in the corner."

Hermione picked an owl and pulled out some parchment, scribbling a note to Ginny that, unfortunately, she was in Gryffindor. Ginny would be ecstatic. She didn't like the idea at all of Hermione alone with the 1940s Slytherin cohort. Now they would have to figure out another way to ingratiate themselves with the purebloods.

Hermione released the owl. "All done. Thanks again, Minnie."

"No problem. Aubrey and Peumona really are nice girls. I didn't mean to make you think anything about them..."

"Yes, I understand! I appreciate the thought though." She beamed at Minnie.

Minnie smiled back, and then looked at her slyly. "So, would you fuck him?"

Hermione spun her head around. "Um, uh."

"Simple question Hermione. And despite my feelings about the turd, which I'm sure, you can imagine, I won't judge you either way. Half the female population here is creeped out by him, but the other half, like drunken dragons when they see him! Why, I don't know. There are plenty of good looking boys at Hogwarts. Though the year above us, my oh my, you missed out. If only Grindelwald hadn't chased you over here sooner, they were sweet." She got a dreamy look on her face. "Magnus Dolnick, the last head boy, sometimes in the prefects bathroom you can make the door disappear if you tell the mermaid in the painting a good enough fib and we would go after patrols and – oh hello Professor Dumbledore."

"Why hello Minerva, Hermione. A fine evening for a stroll in the corridors, when all the other students are tucked away in their common rooms."

"Indeed. Peace and quiet."

"Hi Professor."

"Hermione, I'm glad I ran into you and Minerva here. I wanted to give you your course schedule. You and Minerva should discuss the classes. You are more than apt to take them all, but maybe that's not of interest to you considering you might want to travel with your friend Ginny sometimes or...I don't know what other adventures might take up your time." He handed the course load to Hermione. McGonagall snatched it from her.

"Yikes! You want to move into the library like me? Madam Nolan will have a new hopeless, husbandless hag to complain about. Yay!"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. I'll think about it. Do I have to decide now?"

"No, you have two weeks. But I suggest you decide tonight, if possible."

"Oh, ok."

"Lay off, professor. No one will bother Hermione or any of the transfer students. I'll hex them halfway to Paris if they do."

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "Yes, yes. Of course." Realization dawned on Hermione. It wasn't any plain bullying McGonagall was worried about. She was a refugee. "I've given McGonagall here authority to help students change their classes because the staff has been quite busy dealing with, well, dealing with the bludger heads in the Ministry, if you'll excuse my foul language." Minerva nodded fiercely. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll retire to my quarters. Good night girls."

"Good night!"

"Good night, professor."

They rounded a corner and McGonagall didn't miss a beat. "I wouldn't blame you if you shagged him. Might as well do it now and get it out of your system right away. Move on with your life and free yourself from that manipulative bastard."

Hermione laughed. "Is it that simple?"

"Ugh, maybe it's a little messier than that. But otherwise, you're prolonging it. He didn't visit the Gryffindor table because he was being a good little head boy. He leaned in, all the way in. Leaned in to whisper some dirty shite in your ear. I could see you getting red." Hermione blushed. "Yeah, just like that. Are you thinking about his slimy silky green bed sheets as we speak?"

"Minnie!"

She cackled. "Why did he come to talk to you in the first place? Wood seemed positively green."

"He said you might be busy dealing with that second year's vanished trunk and he could give me a tour."

"What! That tosser! How did he know one of my second years vanished his trunk? I'll bet you ten galleons he had something to do with it. Oh! I'll get him back for that. The school year has only just begun."

It has indeed, thought Hermione.


	4. Chapter 4: First Day of Classes

**Chapter 4: The First Day of Classes**

Tom entered the potions classroom radiating all the grace and power of a young dark lord. He thought potions was a genial way to start his day, and his entire his week, in the cool dim lighting of the dungeons, quietly cutting ingredients and working on a cauldron in pairs. He was glad to see Hermione was in his class, though he was surprised to see her seated at the far end of the room. She seemed more like a front of the class kind of student. He approached her feeling triumphant, he had hoped she would be here. That annoying, mousy excuse for a head girl wouldn't let him see her schedule. If she was as intelligent as she seemed to be, maybe all of their classes would be shared. He moved to take the seat next to her but was cut off by Oliver Wood, insufferable git, who swooped in from the front of the classroom where he had been chatting with Slughorn. Tom stopped in front of him. Wood, git, pretended to be confused, "Oh sorry, Riddle, am I in your way?" he said, settling into his seat. "Let me move so you can walk past." He pulled his chair in, and turned his back to Tom, unpacking his things.

"How kind of you Wood," he said flatly to the back of his head and walked around the desk to sit at another table on Hermione's other side. Her head was already buried in her potions text, oblivious to the exchange.

Abraxas Malfoy slid into the seat beside him. "What are you doing here in the back of the room?"

"I find the view to be quite nice." he said in a low voice, giving a slight nod towards Hermione.

Abraxas sneered, "One of the imports? You can't get enough of them, can you? What's the deal with this one? She a mudblood too?"

"Maybe, but what do I care about blood status? It's all about what's in here," Tom tapped his heart and smiled innocently.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Don't make me barf. I can barely stomach Rangley's infatuation with that Ravenclaw twat."

"Lucinda is also a fine young lady, a lot of heart."

"Is that what you're calling it these days." Malfoy sneered. Then he looked up and then quickly down as a girl with long brown hair walked past them. Tom noticed Malfoy flinch and sink in his seat and pull his potions textbook all the way up to his hairline.

"What?"

Malfoy peered sideways at Tom. "What what?"

"What are you hiding for?"

"I'm not hiding." His eyes flickered to the girl who now sat in the front of the room at an angle that made her clearly visible from Malfoy's vantage point. She turned around and made eye contact with him. "Oh Merlin's hairy tits." He turned to his book and concentrated hard on the text.

Tom followed his line of vision and smirked. "I'm sickening?" he muttered, opening his potions textbook to the first chapter.

Once the class was all seated, Slughorn stood up from his desk. The noisy room fell silent. He smiled, his grin slowly spreading across his face as if being pulled by two strings.

"Welcome class, welcome to NEWT level potions. You should congratulate yourselves for making it this far. It is no easy task. Watching you all grow and become formidable young witches and wizards for the past six years has been such a pleasure. But I'm afraid, for some of you hopefuls, our time has already come to an end. Though I have accepted all of you into my class, I do hope some of you would reconsider. I have made no cuts, I leave that up to you, because how much effort you want to put in this year is truly your decision, and what makes most sense depends upon your careers." Slughorn was walking down the aisles of students and widening his eyes comically throughout his speech. "If you thought last year was difficult, this year you might need a time turner to keep up." he chuckled, his belly jiggling.

"Do not fear, if you do not think you are up to the task, there are very few professions that actually need a NEWT in potions. And due to the need for more help with the, uh...situation on the continent, assistant healers and aurors no longer need NEWTS in potions, arithmancy, or charms, though they do now need one in...Muggle Studies." People in the class began whispering. "I know, I know. New regulations, just came out this summer, last week. Settle down, now." Slughorn rapped a heavy roll of parchment against the desk closest to him. The pair of students sitting there were both deathly pale with long drawn faces and pin straight black hair, a boy and a girl. Thwack thwack thwack. The boy was closest to Slughorn, and he jumped, and wrinkled his nose as if affronted that a common scroll would be presented to him. He straightened his Slytherin tie. Slughorn took no notice of his annoyance, looking around the classroom jovially as he waited for the whispering to stop. He continued on down the aisles, the long-faced boy eyed the parchment suspiciously as it left the range of his desk.

When the class quieted, Slughorn began speaking again. "Of course, I welcome all students to the challenge, but it does mess up the group projects when students drop out after a month. So, if you please, if you have your doubts, I welcome you to leave now." Slughorn looked around the room again grinning.

A student raised their hand. "Professor, what if we want to take all the classes on our schedule but didn't plan for these new rules. Can we do an independent study? Or test out?"

"Excellent question, Marguerite."

As Slughorn asnwered the question, a boy with curly brown hair, sitting in front of Tom turned around. So now we have to take Mudblood studies to work in the ministry? What is the world coming to." Tom and Malfoy snickered quietly.

Hermione's head shot up and she stared shrewdly at the boy. Her hair had been fully blocking the book she was holding, and Tom could now get a view of it. It was not the potions textbook. It was completely black and looked like there was no writing on it.

Ginny had asked Hermione to research a type of iron ore that goblins mined before she went to visit the mine itself. Hermione thought to ask Slughorn about it, as not only could it be used for making swords and cauldrons but was a useful potion ingredient alternative for various types potions. She came to class an hour early to speak with Slughorn and request any materials he had on it. He lent her a beautiful leather bound book twice as big as her potions text. The pages were black and the writing was in a gleaming black that could only be seen after staring at a page for five minutes straight. Hermione had been so engrossed in it that she had failed to notice anything happening in class until the rude comment broke her focus.

The boy made eye contact and raised his eyebrows. "Can I help you?" His gaze lingered distastefully to her hands, "Oh look, you have already have the required reading." Hermione looked at her hands, which were covered in soot marks from the book. Her palms were black and powdery as if she had dragged them through a fireplace.

Hermione scowled and opened her mouth to say something rude, but Tom interjected. "Percival, let me introduce you to a new transfer student, Hermione Payne. Hermione, these are my dear friends, Percival Nott and Abraxas Malfoy." he said smoothly, as if they were at a dinner party and he was the charming host.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Payne." said Nott, a sickly sweet smile on his lips, though it did not reach his eyes. Malfoy merely nodded at her, looking indifferent. She looked blankly from pureblood to pureblood.

"Charmed, I'm sure," she said, snapping the large tome shut, causing a tiny cloud of soot to puff out. She pushed the book aside and rubbed her hands together. When she pulled them apart, they were clean. The boys raised their eyebrows at the nonchalant feat of magic. Hermione pulled out her potions text, quills and parchment, giving her full attention to Slughorn.

"Now that I have answered the burning questions, you can stay after class if there are other details you would like to discuss. Back to the problem at hand, there is absolutely no shame in taking time for your other studies. No shame at all. If you would like to drop potions, I would commend you." No one moved. Then one student, with large ears that stuck out from his curtains of long hair, stood up, grabbed his books, and walked soberly out of the room. Five more students gathered their things and quietly followed him.

"Ok, now that that's settled." Slughorn returned to the front of the room and removed a cover from a cauldron the size of a bathtub, holding it up like a chef displaying a gourmet meal. It was filled to the brim with some type of green plant with pods the size of a fist. Slughorn levitated two pods into a bowl on his desk and covered the large cauldron.

"In our first class of the year, we will be making a simple potion, but with some volatile materials. I'm sure you all brought your proper protective equipment. Please take that out now." Students shuffled to take out their gloves, goggles, and turn on their cleaning flames."

Tom and Hermione both leaned down to reach their bags and almost bumped heads. "I didn't see you at breakfast this morning. I was hoping I could show you around."

Hermione looked up and found her nose awkwardly in his hair. It smelled like fresh pine. She quickly pulled her bag into her lap to avoid the awkward position. She didn't want to sniff his hair. She didn't m, she convinced herself. "Oh, I"m sorry Tom. I skipped. I needed to speak with Slughorn, and Oliver offered to take me and show me the way."

"Ah, of course. How nice of him to do that." he said. Git, he thought. "Sorry about my friends. They can be quite crass." He added, fumbling with the ties on his bag. He peered at her from his bent position.

"Crass is such a cute way of saying prejudiced arsehole." Hermione said, feeling annoyed. Tom chuckled. How could he play that down? He had also laughed at Nott's infuriating joke. He pulled out his dragonshide gloves.

"Come on Hermione, a NEWT in Muggle Studies is hardly a good use of time for a future auror or healer. Especially at the expense of potions."

Hermione scoffed. "If you don't understand why it's important, especially in times like these, you're really not as smart as I thought you were," she said cuttingly. Tom blinked. He placed the rest of his materials down on his desk with careful, controlled movements, the picture of a calm, attentive student. He turned to her and leaned over, his voice somewhat colder than before "I suppose I'd like to hear more about why you think that, especially having gone through what you have been through. It must make you so much superior to us mere civilians." Hermione gritted her teeth. She was buzzing with anger. "Sure. Anytime. But leave the inbreds at home. I don't have the patience." she replied. Nott, facing the front of the classroom, raised his eyebrows. He had been listening, of course.

Hermione turned completely away from the boys, propping her head on her arm. Oliver whispered, "What did those bludger heads say?"

Hermione smiled at him, "Nothing, don't worry." He nodded, unconvinced, and glanced at Tom suspiciously.

"We will be making a potion today to heal boils." Slughorn said. "It can be diluted and drunk, or boiled down and mixed with herbs and made into a salve. The key ingredient is bubotuber pus. Has anyone had experience with this before?"

Hermione's hand shot up, remembering an envelope of hate mail she received once where, upon opening it, the yellowy-green liquid covered the skin on her hands and caused angry yellow boils to form.

"Miss Payne. Care to explain its properties?" Slughorn beamed.

"Bubotuber pus comes from the pustules of the bubotuber plant. It causes boils if it touches the skin when undiluted. It can also be made into a powerful healing potion and used to treat acne."

"Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor. Miss Payne, care to demonstrate?" Slughorn levitated the bowl with the plant pods onto her desk. The class followed it and crowded around her.

Hermione picked up her dragonshide gloves and put them on. She pulled her sleeves all the way up to ensure that none got on her uniform. She hear could the gasps from her classmates as she carefully sliced the capsules and ladled the pus into her rusty cauldron, which, like most of her school supplies, was salvaged from the used materials storage closet that was filled with things that graduating students forgot or donated. The pus dribbled in a gloopy mass the texture of sand mixed with honey and the color of dried green grass. It stank of petrol. Hermione focused on not losing a drop and scraping the plant clean. Not a fleck of the volatile liquid escaped her attention. She thoroughly enjoyed the slightly nervous feeling she got when she was intensely focused. She could feel a sweat forming on her brow.

When the capsules were completely emptied, she passed her gloved hands through the flickering green cleaning flame before removing them and looking up at the class. Twenty shocked faces were staring and silent. Hermione gulped, something wasn't right. She caught Tom's eye. Standing directly across from her, he was looking at her curiously, and something else unreadable was in his expression. Hermione didn't chance a glance at anyone else.

"What's wrong?" She said slowly. "Did I mess something up?" Even Slughorn looked exceedingly uncomfortable.

"My dear, Miss Payne," he began.

"You poor thing!" choked out a girl from Gryffindor. She was getting more and more confused, and then Hermione looked down at her forearm, where her sleeve was pulled up past her elbow, at the ugly letters carved into her skin, the scar faded to white but still very visible.

"Oh," she said.

"Big surprise, another mudblood import." Sneered someone from the back of the room.

"Shut your trap, Malfoy," hissed McGonagall. Then, louder, to the rest of the class, "Have you never seen a scar before! Act civilized!"

Slughorn stuttered again, "My dear, perhaps we should -" He trailed off.

She clutched at her forearm as if it still burned. The class stared at her, sharing an uncomfortable silence, too curious to leave, politeness quickly waning as the desire to know more burned in the air.

"I was tortured." Hermione answered to no one in particular. "I'm not ashamed of my blood status." She added. She didn't realize she was crying until she felt a tear drop from her chin. Why should she care if they, strangers in a foreign time, saw her scar? She hadn't planned hiding that she was a muggleborn. But she also hadn't planned announcing it in such a spectacular fashion. It was humiliating to share something so private to people who didn't even deserve to know.

"Maybe the bubotuber pus can heal your scar?" commented a student, breaking whatever spell the rest of the class was under.

"That's ridiculous, didnt you hear what she just said?" yelled another, ire in their voice.

The students erupted into yells and jeers.

"But don't you want a clean slate?"

"Where's your propriety?"

"How will you find a husband?"

"Enough!" Professor Slughorn exclaimed. "There will be no interrogations today! Back to your seats! Now!"

"We have enough mudbloods at Hogwarts!" 

"Down with Grindelwald!" 

"Shut up you troll!"

Someone shot a hex across the classroom and a large Slytherin at the back of the crowd was thrown back, dragging rows of desks with him and landing in a heap. Another hex was fired and a student yelped in pain.

"No, students! No dueling in the potions classroom! Are you mad!"

Hermione saw a blue flash of light and screamed while diving under the table, dragging two students next to her with her just in time, as her cauldron of bubotuber pus exploded, handfuls of the pus flying at the students. As Hermione and the two students next to her, Wood and another student she had met, Amanda Lockhart, were under the table, she missed most of it. but she could hear the other students screaming.

"Quiet, calm yourselves, calm down. Get ahold of yourselves!" yelled Slughorn, desperation in his voice. He seemed to be one of the more hysterical ones.

Hermione sat up, the back of her calf had a glob of bubotuber pus on it and she could feel the painful boils begginning to form. "Fuck," she said, standing up and trying not to touch her calf. She scourgified herself and it made the boils burn even more. She hissed in pain, but could still stand easily. She surveyed the classroom. The thick potion didn't coat the whole room, but fell in globs on unfortunate victims. About half of the class had boils on some part of exposed skin. She saw Tom's robes looked immaculate and his skin was flawless. He was calmly siphoning it off of a fellow student's sleeves up to their shaking arm, unfortunately covered in boils.

The rest of the students were in chaos, screaming, yelling, sobbing. One Slytherin in particular was somehow screaming and sobbing at the same time. She looked like a very pretty girl, but half of her face and both of her hands were covered in boils.

Hermione helped Wood and Lockhart stand up. She noticed two more students covered in boils who were shrieking as a third was trying to calm them down.

"Silencio!" bellowed Slughorn. The noise in the classroom came to an abrupt stop. He spoke slowly and purposefully. "I am ashamed of this class. I should just cancel NEWT level potions because not only are a few of you reckless enough to duel in the middle of the classroom _andIassureyou_ that bubotuber pus is not the most volatile thing in here, but you are all obviously unfit to deal with an accident in a mature way." He looked around, a vein in his forehead throbbed. Hermione had never seen the calm, gracious, even simpering professor, ever look so serious. She was shocked. He waved his wand and the remaining pus in the classroom sizzled to black and disappeared in puffs of ash. "I understand that if you get the boils they are painful, but not nearly as painful as skin contact with the materials we will be working with the rest of the year. And in this classroom, as in real life, you will not have a professor to protect you from every possible mistake and stupid, completely preventable catastrophe. Use your heads!" He bellowed. "Now, I think we've had enough excitement for today. I want you all to leave, and think about what you've done. And I want 10 inches on proper safety protocol when accidents happen. Doing first year work, by Merlin. Class dismissed!" The students stood around, in shock for the second time in five minutes. "You heard me," he bellowed. "out!" They all rushed to their desks, those who could rush, and weren't impaired by the painful boils. They all shuffled out, half probably on their way to the infirmary.

"Good job mudblood," said a girl as she shoved past Hermione. Hermione didn't react. She scourgified her bag, glad that she had protective charms on it to protect it from harmful materials.

"Malfoy, Riddle, McGonagall, Payne, please stay back." Slughorn was waving his wand around his desk, putting it neatly back into order. When the four seventh years approached, he stopped and looked at them grimly.

He turned to Hermione. "Tensions, as you can see, are high at Hogwarts. It wasn't always like this. People are afraid. War is very close. Especially for some of the muggleborns, their parents are dealing with the muggle wars, and now the wizarding world has its problems too. It's all quite dramatic." He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead with it. "I know you didn't mean anything, but," he looked down, looking conflicted. "oh, well I suppose they have to see that it's real. You students, your friends – they could all have been in it, if that was here. And the war might come here." He sighed. "Anyhow, I apologize for how the lesson went. I'm so ashamed of Hogwarts students today. I called you three here because I know you to be exceptional students, and level headed, he added, raising his eyebrows, and the rest of the prefects are all covered in those horrid boils in some way. Madame Sovaro will be needing extra healing salve to deal with this mess. I want you four to stay here and brew some for her. I doubt St. Mungo's would be willing to ship us any, what with...nevermind." He looked at them nervously, and then smiled.

Professor, Malfoy interjected. While i would be honored to make vast quantities of this potion by your side, i believe i might be of more help in the infirmary. and i wouldnt want to deprive miss payne of learning all she can, she has not had the pleasure of learning from you for the past six years as we have.

nonsense m'boy! you belong right here, what with your exceptional skills. besides, youre far too handsome to be in the infirmary right now, all the chaos and excitment, you'll distract madame sovaro, he winked. malfoy pouted like a child. slughorn took no notice, of course.

"Um professor, I have a small problem. At that, Minnie pulled her yellow, boil covered hand out of her pocket.

"Oh dear merlin!" Slughorn flinched violently, then patted his forehead with his handkerchief. "Too much excitement today, too much," he muttered. Malfoy and Riddle barely suppressed their snickers. "Why, that is ghastly," he added. "I am so sorry Minerva dear, you will have a difficult first week of classes with that."

"It's ok," said McGonagall, unperturbed, it's not my wand hand."

"Oh, well that at least," he nodded. "I suppose you must also head off to the hospital wing. That leaves you three." looking at Hermione, Tom and Abraxas.

"I'm happy to help, we can stay as long as it takes professor." Tom smiled, looking far too pleased. Malfoy looked even more annoyed. Hermione thought he mumbled something about scheming blood traitors.

"Oh bollocks, sorry Hermione," Minnie whispered so only she could hear. Hermione made eye contact with Tom and a smile crept onto her face. "Professor, while I would love to help make the healing salve, I'm afraid I too need to go to the hospital wing." She angled her leg so he could see the swatch of calf that was covered in the yellow boils. She could feel Tom's smile fall off of his face. She repressed a snicker.

"Yeek," said Slughorn. "Gentleman, what were you doing while these pretty girls got covered in slime? Anyways, off with you two." Minnie and Hermione started towards their desks. "Alright boys, looks like it will just be us for the next two hours!"

Hermione and Minnie avoided Malfoy and Riddle's death stares as they hurriedly gathered their things and left the dungeons.

Once they were clear of the area, they burst into laughter. "Did you see the ice king and his boyfriend's faces? We're going to have to cover our arses for the next few days. They'll be looking for revenge."

"Those handsome innocent gentleman come after us? Well, they can try." Hermione smirked. "Besides, It's not our fault they're the only two prefects in the class who got away boil free." She chuckled. "Minnie, I didn't understand what Slughorn was saying just now. Did he actually try to scold me for pulling my sleeve up? Like it's my fault I'm scarred."

"I know, the nerve. But ah, Sluggy just likes to keep the peace, wants everyone to be famous and rich and get along, blah, blah, blah. He _was_ right that tensions are high." McGonagall struggled to zipper her backpack with her yellow knobbly claw of a hand as they walked. "He was trying to be delicate, but he's not so good at that. He couldn't outright say, teenagers are crazy, don't wave around your mudblood scar. He'd sooner choke on his candied pineapple than offend a prized student. It's a hard role to play, trying to be a professor and a buddy, but whatever. He loves to play it, most of the time. He can be right stern as well, as you saw today" Hermione nodded.

"Here, let me help you with that." She said, zipping the bag the rest of the way. "I'm so sorry about your hand, Minnie."

"Oh who cares. It's kind of cool. And I had to protect the galleon maker." she said, waving her boil covered hand around her face. Hermione laughed. "And in case you're wondering why my dominant hand didn't come to my rescue but instead this here left one did, then I have to confess that I realized in a split second that I really need my right hand to fill the lonely nights if you know what I mean."

"Minnie! You mean it wasn't your dedication to classes and your role as head girl that ensured you would have a functioning wand hand?" Hermione laughed.

"It's just, oh! Magnus! I miss him so." She said dreamily. "Now he's off doing research in India, or London or some tripe." 

"Was that your boyfriend?" Hermione said, amused, as they passed some students who outwardly cringed as they noticed McGonagall's claw.

"Oh, that bore? Definitely not. I didn't even like him that much. All elbows and teeth." She said airily, examining her hand with detached interest. Hermione looked at her and raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry for what you have been through Hermione, and now you have to live in this castle with these fools who have pumpkin juice for brains. If you ever want to speak, Minnie rested her yellowed hand on hermione's shoulder, me and my deformities are here to support you. And your deformities."

Hermione laughed. "How are you waving that hand around so much? These boils are painful!"

"The pain is all mental. I would rather learn to separate the bodily pain from my mental reactions. One day I'll meditate my way to such detachment, that I could endure a crucio with a smile on my face. She was jovial, but Hermione saw a flash of sadness on her face. She would have to investigate that later. What had McGonnagall gone through that she didn't know about? Minnie turned to her again and the moment was gone. I'm sorry for tearing you away from your enemy-slash—beau. I suppose that wouldn't have been the best opportunity for shagging anyway, what with princess Malfoy and Sluggy in the way. She paused. Unless you're into that, of course. She said, in fake concern.

Hermione laughed again. "You are the most foul mouthed girl I think i've ever met. Minnie beamed in pride. Though maybe, I know a certain redhead who could give you a run for your money. Hermione couldn't believe that this was her future professor. She had never known McGonnagall to be so silly. She must have had to put a brick wall between this personality and her teaching facade. Her and Ginny together would cause a riot with their humor.

"Ah, Minnie said wisely. Your little companion who got away. Lucky her, away from these fools. Probably blowing off some steam with the intellectuals down in London, sipping tea. Speaking of foie gras. Pinot noir. Escargot."

"She's about to take a tour with some goblins. And then go meet a half-giant friend."

Minnie raised her eyebrows above her her horn rimmed glasses. "Well, if she were going to meet a pile of rocks it would be smarter than these fools. I swear, sending a reducto in a potions classroom! When I find out who did that, I'll have their head. Though it was quite funny seeing Esther Goyle and Rupert Rangley covered in boils," she said viciously. "They're such trolls, now their outer appearance will resemble their souls."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh along with her, though she felt guilty about it. How nice it would be if people looked as horrible as they acted. She thought of Tom, and even the regal looking Malfoy and Nott. Probably would curse a baby if given the chance, but those three and the lot of their Slytherin crew were unfairly good looking.

Despite knowing it wasn't her fault, it was quite a disastrous class, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was causing unnecessary chaos at Hogwarts already. She could tell already that the other transfer students seemed to keep their heads down. She was a complete alien to this time, and she wasn't even able to blend in as a regular student. She already had foreigner, refugee, and now, Mudblood and circus act, stamped on her forehead.

This class was a disaster that would put her on the top of the pile of school gossip. It definitely topped the chaos of classes where Buckbeak scratched Malfoy or when Lockhart lost control of the Cornish Pixies and abandoned the students to clean it up. She hadn't had a chance to survey the students, but the most dramatic ones really did seem to be in a state. They had to be levitated to the infirmary. The question she had now was if the attention could be a good thing. She could only wait and see.

"I just hope the rest of my classes here are more...calm."

"I have a feeling excitement follows you wherever you go," McGonnagall said, skinnying her eyes at Hermione, "however, I highly doubt any of our classes can get much worse than an exploding vat of bubotuber pus!"

Hermione chuckled nervously, hoping to Merlin that it was true. At that she realized she needed a new cauldron. Maybe investing in one that could withstand blasting curses was worth it after all.

In the end, Hermione and Minnie didn't go to the infirmary, thinking it would be chaos. That, and she didn't want to talk to any of the other students. Instead they went to her dorms to use her own personal kit where she had some extra strong healing salve she had made herself. It was probably past its use date, but it would do in a pinch. While Hermione was rummaging through her medicine bag, McGonnagall shrieked causing Hermione to nearly drop two glass bottles she was holding.

"Wow!" When Hermione looked over, she rolled her eyes. Minnie had seen a drawer of her underwear half open. On display was all of the lacy underwear Hermione had spilling out of it. One of her few vices was wearing pretty underthings. "You tramp! This is beautiful." She said, dangling a black lace thong before dropping it back into the drawer. "Are you wearing something obscene right now?" She lifted Hermione's skirt.

"Minerva McGonnagall!" Hermione said, pulling her skirt back down.

"Oh, disappointing. If I had this stash you have here, I'd never wear cotton underwear ever again. You have to take me to Paris with you. I want to go just for lacy lon-jer-ray." She threw herself on the bed. "Magnus would have probably choked on his own spit if he had seen me in something like that." She sighed dreamily.

"I don't wear them all the time. But I always wear them when I'm sad," Hermione admitted. "It cheers me up."

"Wow, how did you just make lacy underwear so depressing. A bloke is getting lucky and thinks his lady friend dressed up for him, but really it's because her familiar died. Or she got a bad mark in ancient runes." She giggled.

"Ha ha."

"Maybe you should put some on now. You've had a shite morning. But nothing a lacy green thong can't fix." Minerva reached back into the drawer and tossed a particularly scandalous piece at Hermione. It landed on her shoulder. Hermione grabbed it.

"Stop looking at my underwear!" She gave Minnie a bottle. "Here, start applying this." Hermione then turned and walked away.

"Oy, where you think you're going, you fellow boiled monster?"

"To change my underwear!" Hermione yelled back.

At lunch Hermione was famished. She had skipped breakfast because she overslept and wanted to get to Slughorn's early. She could feel her stomach growling, but her meal was interrupted by all the stares she was receiving from her fellow classmates.

"Oh, Hermione, you poor thing!" squealed Peumona. "I heard all about potions. How dramatic! I hope you can live this down she said," skillfully levitating gravy over her potatoes.

"I heard you saved Wood and Lockhart." said Audrey.

"She sure did, I'm only friends with Oliver over here for his looks. I would have had to let a bludger through to spare us the view at quidditch later." Weasley said.

"Don't joke about injuring yer fellow quidditch teammates. It's bad luck." Wood admonished. When Wood turned back to his food Weasley mimicked him being stern. Soraya, across from him, laughed into her juice.

"It happened like, 20 minutes ago, how could you have heard already?" Hermione asked.

"And your leg, how hideous," Peumona continued I saw it when you walked in. It's like a nest of vampire hornets mistook you for a midland ghoul! But at least it lasts only a day."

"Nope, up to two weeks. Maybe three. If we're lucky, it will scar." McGonnagall said, waving her claw around. Audrey shuddered and leaned away.

"Three weeks!" Peumona shrieked. Soraya and Weasley, sitting closest to her, covered their ears. But we're planning a fall ball! Are you saying the entire seventh year potions NEWT class will be incapacitated and ugly?"

"Mona," said Audrey, "We have two solid months until the Hallows Eve ball."

"I was actually speaking of another gathering, less macabre. A month before."

Mcgonagall snorted. "An extra dance? That's funny." 

Peumona narrowed her eyes at McGonnagall. "Well, I'll discuss that with professor Talinn and the planning circle, which you're not part of, or did you decide it actually was worth your time? Hmm?" McGonnagall chewed her food and stared at Peumona. It was if they were having a silent conversation. Dean broke eye contact first and turning back to her bushy haired prey, she continued, "Anyways. Oh Hermione, you're so brave! you must have been on the front lines! How I would have killed to have been defending a cause I love like that! How was it? Is battle horrible?" She propped her chin on her hand.

Hermione was very much wishing she had skipped lunch too. She was still trying to avoid thinking about the students' reaction in the class. If she could just focus on making jokes or being angry, she didn't have to think about the other feelings swimming around in her stomach. And here she was, sitting across from the firing squad. She sighed. It could have been worse. She could have been alone with Malfoy and Riddle for two hours making healing salve.

"It's nothing to gloat about," she said.

"But what did you do?" she pressed. "Like, what was your every day like? We're all dying to know."

"Hermione looked at her. She opened her mouth to say she'd rather not talk about it when she was cut off again, "Were the wizards on the front lines absolutely battle hardened and beautiful?"

She heard some of the other students snickering into their food. At least she wasn't she only one who thought this was ridiculous. Hermione stopped eating. She gripped her fork in her fist so tightly her knuckles became white. Slughorn did say maybe it was good for them to see, whatever he meant by that. She didn't want to parade her experiences, her trauma, to satisfy the glint of jealousy in Peumona Dean's eyes. But she had more hope than some other refugees here, hope that she could use. She had fifty years of foresight, a plan, her best friend nearby and even if she was a stranger in this time and place, she was far from powerless. Hermione put her fork down. She looked Peumona in the eye.

"The short if it is, one by one, I lost everyone I loved either because they died or because they became shells of themselves. I spent weeks in a tent, starving to death with two of my friends. I altered my parents memories and sent them to Australia so they wouldn't be attacked. I was beaten, tortured, nearly raped. I saw my friends being tortured. it was exhausting, confusing, and terrifying. And most of all, it was all quite meaningless, the violence, the hatred. For what? For power? Wealth? For control? I still don't quite understand. But I had to live it."

There was a pause. Peumona looked pained and uncomfortable, which satisfied Hermione in a small way. But then she burst out, "Ugh! How horrible! Our life here is so boring. If only we had a cause to bring us all together. I would be a great soldier. I'm just built for that kind of stress, you know?" She sighed.

Audrey nodded enthusiastically. Peumona continued, "Remember last year, when I saved Goyle from that blast-ended screwt?"

Hermione looked around. McGonnagall looked disgusted, one of the Weasley's rolled his eyes. Soraya, next to him, looked unsurprised at Peumona's words. She turned to Hermione and jumped in. "Thank you for sharing Hermione. I know it must be hard to talk about. And even harder to have experienced."

Hermione nodded. Picking her fork up but just moving her food around on her plate. She thought she would feel relieved by sharing her experiences, but she just felt oddly embarrassed.

Peumona continued. "Oh Hermione I bet you're the best dueler! We must partner up in Defense! I'd love to try my skills on a real battle axe like you!"

Hermione smiled tightly, "Sure." Peumona bounced in her seat excitedly.

Tom was in a bad mood. He missed lunch to make extra healing salve and had to listen to Malfoy complain the entire time. Slughorn got called away by Dumbledore and so they made all of it by themselves. If he even heard someone say the word bubotuber he might not be able to stop himself from cursing them.

He burned to talk to Hermione, but couldn't catch her the rest of the day. He got to Defense Against the Dark Arts late because of Potions. The desks in the classroom was arranged in a circle with Merrythought conjuring live scenarios in the center. The lesson had jumped straight into the theory behind self defense against rabid unicorns. As if anyone would ever encounter a unicorn, let alone one that had fallen victim to a monster who dared to try and kill it.

Hermione kept her sleeves rolled up the entire time.


	5. Chapter 5: Will duel for NEWTs

**Thank you all for the helpful feedback, follows, reviews, and favorites. Let me know what you think about this one! I'll try to keep the next chapter shorter. This one was a monster.**

**CHAPTER 5: Will duel for NEWTs**

Hermione rounded a corner deep in thought on her way to the library, clutching her books to her chest. She rounded a corner and stopped immediately at a dead end. She must have taken a wrong turn, she thought. But she knew this hall lead down an arch into a staircase. She stared at the stones bewildered. Looking closely, she could see that some of them seemed to be an unnaturally different color. She reached a hand out and it passed through the stone as if they were smoke. She yanked her hand back, slightly afraid and intrigued. Perhaps this had been a secret passage for a long time before whatever enchantment hid it faded away? The bubble of excitement from a new discovery brought a smile to her face. What a wretched, long day it had been already. She felt redeemed at this small discovery. This was something that she loved about magic, always something new and unexpected at every corner. Before she could explore further, she heard quiet, measured footsteps approaching. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She whirled around, her wand out in an instant.

Three boys and a girl, Ravenclaws, to her surprise, had her cornered in the hallway. They had fanned out in order to block any attempts at escape.

"Look what we have here boys," said a girl with long blond hair, and an angelic grin. Hermione recognized her and two of the boys from her potions class.

"Hi." Hermione said awkwardly clutching her books tighter to her chest. "I don't believe we've met. I'm –"

"I don't need to know your name. Not like you'll be here for long." said the girl, fingering a long, knobbly wand of a pale brown, almost blonde, wood. "But I do want you to know mine," she said, eyeing Hermione, and leveling her wand at her, "Salomar." She smiled.

"Not here for long? What's that supposed to mean," Hermione said, surveying the students for any sign this was just a sick joke. The boys' faces were stony.

"It means we want you to leave." She said slowly, "And if you don't, maybe we'll just make you." She laughed a cold, tinkling laugh that made Hermione's skin crawl. "I thought you were supposed to be smart? NEWT level potions and all." Her smile vanished. "Because of you, best friend is covered in boils."

Hermione's jaw tightened. Ah, good old revenge. "That was an accident. I didn't fire any spells."

"A fake witch with fake powers, of course not. It's just that...chaos seems to follow your kind. You can't control yourself or act with any kind of respectability," she spat.

Hermione scoffed. "You can't blame everything that goes wrong on me being a muggleborn. I didn't fire any of those spells." she repeated.

"No, no. It's not just you, don't worry. We just know that if you're not a real wizard you can't be trusted. Did you know that just a few years ago a half giant was expelled because his stupidity killed a student!" Her voice rang through the empty hallway.

Hermione's heart clenched. Hagrid. "I'm just as much of a witch as you," she said calmly. She tightened her grip on her wand. She wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but the direction seemed to be duel. And as much as she could pride herself on her dueling skills, expanded and honed from her work with Dumbledore's Army and the many battles she had fought in, she wasn't sure she could take on four students alone. Especially if they were skilled duelists.

One of the boys spoke. "They're passing over good pureblood stock to fill our classes with trash like you. We're tired of it. Go back home." His eyes flicked to his friend, standing behind him. It was a boy who she didn't recognize. Understanding dawned on her. Did they think she took his spot? There was no size limit to NEWT classes, was there? Could a student have been bumped out because of her? Like it was her fault his grades weren't up to par. She almost laughed. Of course Ravenclaws would attack her because they thought she ruined their chances of taking a NEWT.

She surveyed her surroundings, thinking of what she should do. She was trapped in an alcove off of an infrequently used hallway, though they didn't know about the passage behind her. If she could distract them for a moment she could escape. The four Ravenclaws had their backs to a banister. Bad move on their part. One blasting spell and they would go careening over the edge of it. She would have to be careful not to knock them over. Though there was a Hogwarts banner rippling in midair above them. She could so easily use it to sweep them over the ledge. She could imagine the headline now, _Muggleborn terrorist from France murders Hogwarts' top students in cold blood!_

No, she would try to keep whatever happened tame. If she showed some of her skills, she could scare them off, but it could be risky. Another option was to pretend she could barely keep up with them, and hope they would leave after sending a few hexes her way. She made eye contact with Salomar. The Ravenclaw's gaze was searing. Hermione gulped. She might not have to pretend after all.

"This is my home." Hermione said, hearing bravery in her voice that she didn't feel. Her eyes burned as she said it. Of course she would start to cry now, of all times. Hogwarts _was_ her home, thinking of it made all the emotions she was trying to keep at bay well up. "And I'm not leaving because you think you own it. Now what is it that you want because it doesn't seem like you're here with the welcoming committee."

The girl's eyes flashed in anger. "Well. It's one thing to be able to read a book," she said taking a step forward. Hermione braced herself. "But if you really are a real witch, you won't mind indulging us in a friendly duel."

Before Hermione could reply, Salomar sliced her wand through the air and the Brightest Witch of Her Age flicked the curse away as if it were nothing.

"Ok," she said simply. Seeming unperturbed, she dropped her books and bag, letting them scatter next to her. She stood with one leg back, and raised her wand arm in a dueling stance. "But it's hardly fair, four against one. Or are you just shite at dueling?"

The girl's eyes widened in delight and she grinned what could have been seen as a warm smile. "Archie, Sid, please make sure we're not disturbed."

Archie and Sid nodded, though the girl did not look back to see. They positioned themselves so they could keep their eyes on either side of the hallway. The third boy, closest to her clutched his wand but did not assume a dueling stance. She noticed a prefects badge glinted on his robes.

"Come on. Your turn."

"Expelliarmus!" All four of them whirled their wands in unison, blocking the spell easily.

"Trying to end our duel so quickly? But we haven't even started!" Salomar whipped her wand through the air, forming a large W that splintered into balls of light. They burst out of formation and bounced on the floor towards Hermione. Hermione fired three different summoning spells before one worked and she corralled them into a large orb of light that she then aimed not at the girl, but the two boys keeping watch behind her.

They dove out of the way, cursing. The ball flew through the bannister, singing it, and continued down into the drop below.

"Melvin!" screeched Salomar. The third boy ran to the bannister and nearly fell over the edge in his haste, pointing his wand down to...banish the fireball? He was keeping their duel contained Hermione realized with fury. She felt split between despising and admire their efficiency.

Hermione conjured a large hawk which rose dramatically before diving straight at the girl's head and when she finally figured out how to deflect it, Hermione had already tried to disarm the lot of them again. She got a wand this time. Sid or Archie's, but the other three held onto theirs tightly. The wandless Sid or Archie, cowered away from the battle before running off down the hall. "One down, three to go," Hermione muttered.

Salomar raised her arm and dragged it through the air in another shuddering arc of light that shot straight towards Hermione who, unable to deflect it in time, dropped to the ground. It could have taken her head off. It disappeared harmlessly behind her. She jumped up, fuming. They were aiming to kill. That meant they were either too dumb to realize how lethal these spells were or they really were trying to murder her. She gripped her wand and relaxed her shoulders as a cold, familiar feeling of concentration enveloped her. She took a deep breathe in and then exhaled.

Salomar shot three discs of light at Hermione followed by a bolt of lightning. As Hermione blocked and dodged the spells, a thought struck her suddenly - why so much light? Hermione realized they weren't just keeping the duel contained, but they were trying to keep it quiet. No noise just dazzling, murderous light work.

Well let's see how they contain this, she thought. She pointed her wand at the marble in front of her and it split with a deafening crack. Jagged lines grew from her feet to the four Ravenclaws forcing them to jump around in confusion. One tried mending over the cracks, but the new marble turned to dust and fell away. Without warning several trees shot up out of the openings in the floor to the fathomless sky of the Hogwarts ceiling.

The Ravenclaws were scrambling to understand what was happening, trying to fill the cracks, to slice at the trees. The cuts in the trees penetrated and then healed again just as quickly. It was an odd sight, the pristine, ancient halls of Hogwarts split with plant life. A shower of leaves cascaded down as the towering oaks shook with the effort to get rid of them.

Hermione then lobbed bolder after boulder at the four Ravenclaws. Mounds larger than her appeared out of the solid wall behind her and rocketed towards her attackers. Like a child throwing pebbles at fish in a pond, they couldn't run away fast enough if they tried. Luckily for them, Salomar was blasting them to pieces with fiery precision.

"Accio banner!" Hermione brought the banner down on the boy, Archie/Sid, and it wrapped around him, trapping him inside. She could see him struggling through the fabric. There, she thought, gone the temptation to do something that in the end, she knew she would regret.

The blonde Ravenclaw used this opportunity to send another slicing hex. Hermione was distracted and blocked it with a weak protego. It forced its way through her shield in pieces and Hermione was able to dive aside at the last second, but her left leg and arm did not escape and became covered in short slices which bled profusely. She groaned in pain, heaving herself up and blocking another round of hexes just in time. Salomar and the prefect were taking the opportunity to bear down on her with all of their strength. She wasn't sure when the boy had joined the duel or if he had been part of it all along. She could barely keep track of where the spells were coming from, as the boy, Melvin apparently, was positioned almost directly behind Salomar.

Another flash of light veered dangerously close and Hermione threw herself to the ground again and jumped up in almost the same fluid movement. She felt a raw pain where her hip slammed to the floor and she felt a sharp pain in the wrist she landed on. She had no time to contemplate it. She felt her fury and frustration fusing together. She wanted to scream. Why. Why was she here?

Hermione knew she shouldn't hate, but she was so tired of this. How long did she have to be the fair and just one while taking everything that came her way? She, and any other bullied, tortured, oppressed witch or wizard for that matter, was supposed to bear it all with a grace and aplomb that was never expected of anyone else. Anyone else meaning those who could walk through the world like they owned it, with the knowledge that they wouldn't be attacked just because of who they are.

Why should she always be the good girl? Before she even registered what she was doing, she flicked her wand and Melvin and Salomar were blown backward, both land on their behinds. Hermione quickly moved her wand as if she was writing a word in the air. A burning skeleton appeared in front of her and shot at Salomar, smoke trailing in its wake. The Ravenclaw tried to block it, and at the last second, to run away, but the monster hit her full on and melted into her body. She collapsed onto the floor and started screaming and thrashing.

Melvin tried to banish whatever demon Hermione had set upon his friend, but to no avail. Hermione just watched him, panting, as he tried spell after spell to save his friend. Melvin looked at the time traveller desperately. "What did you do!" Salomar's voice was getting hoarse from screaming.

Finally, miraculously, he succeeded with a simple finite. Apparently Melvin knew the golden rule which was to always try the simplest solutions, however unlikely they seemed. Salomar shuddered violently as a black haze left her body and she sat up, attemping to get her bearings. Melvin sighed in relief and looked up in time to be blasted backward. Hermione heard his head crack painfully on the marble. He did not get back up.

Salomar was attempting to stand. Hermione had to commend her for her endurance. She sent a series of curses her way that were blocked, though with great difficulty. Salomar finally stood, though it was on shaky legs.

"Fegatum solanus!" Hermione yelled. A spell of her own invention that was meant to be used in a friendly duel. It was a gentle push back, with the pressure focused on their stomach, but hermione found at crucial times in a battle, and with enough force, it could do a fair amount of damage. A white beam of light shot out of her wand.

The force of the impact caused Salomar to yell out in pain. She bent over and clutched her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut. She spit on the ground and blood came out. Straightening up, she raised her wand again at Hermione. "Come on mudblood, is that all you have?"

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. She could feel an unforgivable on the tip of her tongue. She was so tired. Forgiveness, acquiescence, tolerance. She could feel that her eyes looked dead as she raised her wand, mirroring her adversary. They were at a standstill, She looked at Salomar again, wanting to take in, breathe in the being of the girl she was about to torture. She noticed her face was red with exertion, her strands of long fine hair was haphazard around her. Her expression was fierce. All the countenance of a sneering pureblood. But the hand that held her wand was shaking.

It was as if that one detail woke Hermione up. This person in front of her was just a kid. Hermione was violently reminded of Draco Malfoy. What had been hard to recognize, which maybe Salomar was only now realizing herself, was the feeling that she didn't want to be there. That maybe this all was a zero sum game. Hermione felt like she was going to cry again, the feeling stronger this time.

It wasn't their fault that Hermione had already been through a war. She wasn't sure how long they had been bullying transfer students, but she didn't know what they themselves had been through in this time. Not entirely.

She saw Melvin recovering behind Salomar, he was starting to stand up. She decided on a different tactic. She was supposed to distract them and get away, after all. This battle wasn't worth getting expelled for, or even making enemies it wasn't why she was here, wasn't worth anything.

Hermione conjured a brick wall that went from wall to wall, encasing her in the dead end. She was about to turn and run but the wall shook violently with a blast. In seconds they would knock it down. They would most likely guess that there must be a secret passage, if they didn't know already, and then she might get beheaded with one of the girl's light swords while running away.

She channeled her magic around her as the Ravenclaws repeatedly blasted the brick wall. Gathering her strength, she formed a kind of tornado. The lights flickered in the hall with the force of its power as a cone of wind started to form in front of her. Just as the brick wall was about to cave, Hermione shoved the tornado through. It exploded forth spectacularly. Salomar and the prefect had only just enough time to widen their eyes as they were both swept up in it. They were in the middle of it, suspended in the air, rising higher and higher, about to get tangled in the tree branches. The prefect could be seen almost folded into himself, spinning in the fetal position.

Salomar was kicking and reaching wildly. She was trying to fire spells. A red laser beamed from her wand and hit the marble floor, then the wall, then the opposite wall, none even close to its intended target. Hermione couldn't protect herself and hold the wind at the same time. If she had to put up a shield, the students would fall twenty feet onto the unforgiving marble floor or completely over the bannister to a sure death. Disoriented as the two seemed, she wasn't sure how to disarm them further in this state. It was uncontrollable, she had made a horrible mistake. She could feel the panic rising through her cold focus, like a fire slowly licking up the side of a building, threatening to engulf her. Wasn't she supposed to be keeping this tame?

"Enough!"

She dropped her wand as Tom marched into sight, dragging a crying Sid/Archie by his collar. With a wave of his wand, Riddle vanished the entire scene of trees and cracked marble and sent a cushioning charm at the two Ravenclaws a mere few feet before they crashed to the ground. He flicked his wand at the student still struggling in the banner on the side on the floor. The banner unraveled and went back to hang in midair, as innocent as ever. The whole scene had returned to normal. as if nothing had happened at all. The Ravenclaws also seemed almost completely unharmed, just a bit rumpled and disoriented. Salomar had a streak of blood by her mouth.

Hermione, on the other hand, was a mess. She was bleeding down her side and bruises were already blooming from where she had to dive away from curses multiple times. She was favoring one leg. Her wrist felt off. She could tell that her hair was wild around her.

Tom disarmed the Ravenclaws. Five wands flew into his hands. Hermione let hers go reluctantly. Tom shoved the boy he had been dragging toward his three classmates.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tom looked toward the four Ravenclaws, his nostrils flaring, but Hermione noticed he did not look all that mad.

"Just a bit of fun, Riddle. Nothing to concern yourself with," said the blonde, her voice condescending, not making eye contact with Hermione.

"You did look like you were having a great time indeed, Ranke." he replied, looking down imperiously at her.

"Hmph," she said as she studied her nails.

"Tom," Hermione interjected. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the students heads raise suddenly to look at her, maybe surprised that she would be on such familiar terms with the head boy. "I swear, we were just letting off some steam. I had mentioned that I was fond of dueling and I wanted a chance to try some new spells. It's been a while since I had the chance to join in on some friendly dueling." The last part was true at least, she thought, annoyed with herself for trying to fabricate a false story to save these foolish students. She just needed to avoid any more of this attention being drawn to her.

"Ranke, is this true?" The girl nodded, still studying her nails.

The Ravenclaw boys looked perplexed. Tom looked like he would sooner believe they were all about to join the Wizengamot. "Ok. Well, if that was a friendly duel, I would say it still seemed to be three against one, which is, by Hogwarts' definition, an attack. Fifty points each from Ravenclaw for attacking a student. Now, please apologize to Miss Payne."

Salomar's head shot up. "I'd rather eat my toenails!" spat the blonde.

Hermione made eye contact with Tom, trying not to laugh at the odd statement. He handed her her wand and leaned close to whisper out of the side of his mouth, "Were there possibly some side effects of bubotuber pus that makes students...go insane?"

Hermione stifled a laugh. "I'll have to look into it."

"Please do. And report back."

Hermione nodded. She added hopefully to the Ravenclaws, "That was fun, we should try it again sometime."

"With pleasure." Salomar said, glaring.

Hermione stayed silent, the two remained staring at each other.

Tom looked between them curiously before interrupting the tension. "You can retrieve your wands with your head of house." He released the four wands he still had and sent them down the hall. "I'm sure Professor Crowley will be thrilled to hear what her students have gotten up to on day one." The Ravenclaws groaned and begrudgingly turned and followed their wands down the hallway.

Tom turned around about to say something but Hermione wasn't there.

:::

Later that night, Hermione slipped out of the castle. She needed to clear her head. And potentially sneak outside to walk around the grounds, get a feel for the area in 1944.

She couldn't get the day's events out of her head. Potions class, that absurd duel, the the questioning and false understanding of Peumona Dean and some of the other Gryffindors. Battle with death eaters, she could deal with. True evil, she could deal with. But what she was facing here wasn't black and white.

She headed out onto the grounds, over the hills. From the shadows, she turned back to admire the glow of the castle and how it lit the sky, which swirled above, purple and blue sky. The moon shone brightly. There was a chill in the evening air. Hermione pulled her hood tighter around her, feeling comfortable in the lonely darkness of the school grounds.

She walked through the center of the quidditch pitch, feeling as small as a blade of grass, remembering how many times she had sat in the stands, cheering her friends on. She could feel the emotions welling up in her. She willed herself to cry, she needed some kind of release. She had been shoving it down all day. She stayed there for a bit, gazing back at Hogwarts, unable to cry or even shed a single tear. She walked on, past the tiny groundskeepers hut, where a dim glow emanated from the windows.

Beside a dense garden of magical herbs and vegetables, a fenced off area held a sleeping herd of loping bakaris, a magical relative of the llama with opalescent hooves, and thick, black woolen hair. One was awake, standing at the fence and chomping at a vine that grew up the side of the house. Hermione approached it cautiously and touched its wooly coat. She looked down at the rest of them, their long necks intertwined as they lay sleeping amongst each other. Hermione peered over the fence at them, sighing at the friendly, peaceful animals. The bakari nuzzled her hand and she laughed silently.

Next to her, she peered in the window, and was shocked to see a familiar head of black hair. Hagrid, much younger, but still massive in size, was reading silently by candlelight. He must have been starting his training as gamekeeper. She looked into the hut. It was bare, with a long bed taking up most of the space, a table, and a kitchen. A trunk was open at the foot of the bed, and Hermione could see books spilling out of it. A shelf above held a mess of scrolls, quills, and ink. A Gryffindor scarf was hung above the bed. Hermione felt a pang of sadness for Hagrid. He must have been no older than sixteen. She knew he lost his father before being expelled. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to go through those shocks, and now as an orphan, having to live on the grounds while the rest of his classmates went about their normal lives, able to enjoy the full glory of Hogwarts while he couldn't.

She felt her sadness boil into anger. How dare Tom Riddle do this to her friend. She had forgotten who she was dealing with. Not any ordinary teenager, an adult who had killed his family in cold blood and unleashed a monster in the school, her school. Her home. Suddenly, Hagrid looked up. She ducked, getting onto all fours and knocking over a metal bucket near her feet. It clattered on the stones lining the garden. The bakari she had been petting was startled, and started bleating in distress, waking up the rest of the herd who began all bleating together. Hermione kept low and ran around the cottage before making a dash across the grounds, holding her hood tight above her head.

Behind her, she heard the door of Hagrid's hut creak open. "Who's out there disturbin' the poor lopers? Dumbledore'll be hearin' bout this!" She could hear him grumbling more. She didn't stop running until she was deep in the shadows of the forbidden forest. She slowed to a walk, exhilarated by the short run, and feeling energized. She did want to reach out to Hagrid. It felt so good to see a familiar face, but Hagrid in this time didn't know her. She didn't know him. She would wait, at least until daylight.

Wandering along the edge of the forest, she saw a light in the distance. As she grew closer, she saw that it was a small fire surrounded by a group of cloaked figures. They were blocked by enough trees that they wouldn't be visible from the castle. She crept closer. Malfoy, Riddle, and another boy were leading. It seemed that Malfoy was leading a round of questioning. He pointed at each member and beckoned them to step forward, one by one.

And you Dolohov, what have you been up to this summer. We have not heard a thing from you and you refused all our invitations to gatherings.

"I was in Skopje all summer with my family. I could not escape."

Malfoy raised his brows.

"My lords," added Dolohov, with a sarcastic smile.

"How are we supposed to keep the Knights together if we are only unified when back at Hogwarts? This is many of our last year, Nott, Riddle, and I will all be graduating come spring. As well as you, Antonin. Winning hearts and minds is no easy feat if we are not together."

"I think, Dolohov had a good excuse. However, I do wonder if he seems to be tired of our ways." Tom smiled. He flanked by Malfoy and Nott.

"No, no, of course not. I am here tonight, aren't I?"

"You are. I am glad that you all are here." Tom said, looking around at the dozen boys gathered together. "And for the few who are missing, they send their regrets but they could not making because they are being...spoken to. You see there have been some attacks on muggleborns and transfer students - a term which is not interchangeable, might I add," Tom said, looking around menacingly. "While I don't care what you get up to on your own time, bothering me with cleaning up your messes is not permitted. Tonight is just a check-in. But don't worry. We can all get in trouble tomorrow." The boys in the surrounding laughed.

Hermione held in a gasp. There it was, the head boy act gone. She was just a mess to clean up? She felt so angry, and even embarrassed at thinking he could have been a friend, but most of all, tired. She felt as if she was a grain of sand fighting against a sea of these bad ideas. Tom and the rest of the students looked innocent enough in the small clearing. A group of handsome young men standing around a fire near midnight in their black hooded cloaks. They could have been telling ghost stories and roasting marshmallows. She almost laughed. But no, they were in a disgusting little club that was probably giving students like Salomar and Melvin the courage to attack students like her.

Malfoy pointed at another boy in the circle. "Mulciber, welcome back. What do you have to report from the latter half of your summer?" A boy stepped forward to speak.

Hermione didn't stay to listen. She gave them a wide berth, walking around them to explore the grounds some more before heading back to the castle.

:::

Later, but not that much later, she headed towards her dorms. It was well past curfew, and she was listening carefully for other students or professors when she heard Riddle's voice.

"Dumbledore didn't like my little research project. I have been trying to corner Merrythought about it, but if Dumbledore says no, she will, of course, follow suit..."

Hermione looked around frantically for a place to hide, but there was not even a suit of armor around. She tried the door to a classroom, jiggling the doorknob. Locked. She was about to try another when she came face to face with Riddle and Nott.

"Hermione." Riddle said, surprise in his voice. He looked her up and down, maybe looking for injuries, but her cloak hid everything save for her face which was rosy from the cold. Hermione tucked her hands into her pockets and held onto her wand.

"Oh, good evening Tom, Nott." Hermione lowered her hood. She felt exposed without it, and itched to pull it back up.

"Miss Payne," Nott said, his expression stony, "I'd think after your eventful day, you would want to be in bed by now, where you're safe." he added softly. He looked her up and down as well. Hermione noticed a prefect's badge on his robes.

"Of course, Nott. I just couldn't sleep and went for a quick walk."

"Well, twenty points from Gryffindor for being out past curfew. We should also let Dumbledore know. I'm sure he'd be interested in knowing when his new students like to put themselves in situations where they can cause him ever more headaches."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. What did she care if this tosser told on her?

"He did seem to be so tired today. Should be surprising seeing as it's just the first day of classes. But seeing as he's carrying the entire refugee assistance program on his back, probably not."

"I'm sure there's no reason to involve Professor Dumbledore." Tom turned to his friend, giving him a hard look. "Let's continue this conversation tomorrow. I'll escort Miss Payne to Gryffindor tower." Nott nodded, looked blankly at Hermione, and continued on his way.

"Arsehole." Hermione muttered.

"What was that?" Tom said, sounding like he knew exactly what she said.

"Your friend is just so charming."

Tom chuckled. "I would make excuses, but there really are none. Percival Nott is not known for his charm."

"That's actually refreshing, I suppose." Hermione sighed. "I'm over excuses. If you're an arse, just be full arse. Don't pretend to be some self righteous, simpering, pandering, scheming, slimy..."

"While I'd love to hear where this is going, I wonder if you are really talking about Nott here?"

Hermione sighed again, this time with force. "I'm fine. It's been a long day. As you might know." She chanced a glance at him. He caught her looking and raised his eyebrows.

"I do know," he said. "Probably the most eventful first day of classes in Hogwarts history."

"You don't know the half of it," she replied.

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Maybe...maybe. But not now. Nott was right, I should be safe in bed instead of wandering around aimlessly."

"Which brings me to my next question, what are you doing out so late at night?"

Hermione rounded on Tom. What did he even suspect? "What are _you_ doing out? You're not on patrol tonight."

Tom stopped walking and narrowed his eyes, "And how would you know that?"

Hermione blanched. "I-I asked McGonagall for the schedules."

"Hm, and why would you do that? To make sure your Gryffindor pals would let you break the rules?"

"No, because I didn't want to risk being attacked by one of your friends!"

Tom looked at her. She felt nervous. Finally, he said, "Those students who attacked you today weren't my friends."

"Really? Surprise to me. They nearly murdered me, and they just got a few points taken off and a slap on the wrist form their head of house." Tom's lips thinned. "Did you hear me? They nearly murdered me! Or does murder mean nothing to you? Would – "

"I don't know what other accusations you are about to continue making, but I think you should reconsider." He said venomously, stepping closer to Hermione until her back hit the wall. "I am the head boy, after all. Don't say anything that you wouldn't want the headmaster and board of governors to also hear. I'm sure they'd love to know about the chaos a transfer was causing on her first day in classes. Almost as if she couldn't function in a peaceful, classroom setting."

Hermione looked back fiercely. "Fine, then I won't accuse. But I must ask, three other students, transfers, not all muggleborns, were hexed in the hallways today. Did you hear about it?" He had heard. He knew at least two of the perpetrators, and according to them, those were just the three that complained.

"Hermione..."

"Would you," she said, her voice low, "hex a student because they're muggleborn?" There was fire in her eyes.

He opened his mouth to answer.

They heard voices approaching and both looked down the hallway in alarm. "Quick, in here." Tom motioned to a shadowy alcove and they both ducked into the small space. Tom leaned out of the light, forcing Hermione to stand still between him and the wall. How had he gotten her into this position twice in less than one minute? The rude, lying, fake, manipulative, foul being! She looked up and he was watching her, as if he could read her mind. She reddened. He smiled.

"Why are we hiding?" she hissed. "You're allowed to be out late!"

"Haven't you ever heard of avoiding unnecessary trouble?" Hermione looked at him perplexed. "I thought not."

They heard the group of students rushing by, running and laughing down the hall. Hermione peeked at them, they looked young, like second years. She heard them yell something and her and Tom's wands flew out of their hands and stuck into the arch above them. The group's laughter faded into the distance. Hermione shoved Tom off of her and stepped out into the light, looking up at the two wands in the arch.

"Oh no." Hermione groaned. She felt like pulling out her hair.

"Popular spell of late that one." Tom craned his neck up to look at wands as well.

"What are we going to do now?" She said dejectedly, her face falling.

"Don't worry Miss Payne, I'm sure two top ranking students like us can come up with something." Tom snickered.

"Why do you think this is funny! I've been to hell and back but my undoing will be some second year prank that –" she peered down the empty hallway, "all the second years seem to know how to block. I've never heard of that spell. I don't know if I can handle even a jelly legs jinx right now. If one came my way, I don't know. It could probably kill me."

Tom laughed again. "Well, with logic like that, we are bound to figure this out in a snap. Or definitely before Potus finds us."

"Potus?"

"The caretaker. Horrifying fellow, loves to think up the most vile punishments for misbehaving students. He's best to be avoided."

"Oh great. That would just cap the most wonderful first day in all of Hogwarts' history." She said, hugging herself. She could hear a tremor in her voice.

"Hermione..." Tom stepped closer to her. He towered over her small frame.

"No, I'm fine." she said, squeezing her eyes shut, willing the tears away even though they already burned at her eyes and prickled at her nose. Tom stood in front of her, she could feel his hesitance. And then she felt him wrapping his arms around her, leaning against her so she was once again pinned to the wall, the weight of him comforting as she buried her head into his chest.

"I'm ok, it's fine." She repeated, even as she began to sob. This was too much, she was actually seeking comfort in this foul, manipulative git? She tried very hard to care, but how could she deny herself the one release she had been seeking all day? She felt like her brain was upside down and she was trying to right it. Riddle just held her until her sobs subsided and she was just sniffling.

"Feel better?"

Hermione pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose. "Whatever. Yeah." Her head was still resting against his chest. She patted his arm awkwardly. "Thanks, I'm ok now. Really. You can let me go."

"Of course you are. Nothing to see here." Hermione glared at him, but it held no real anger. Her frustration had dissipated and she was actually feeling pretty good. Tom continued, "It's ok. Even though the children I knew growing up were quite afraid of me, I still managed to get quite a bit of experience taking care of small children." he said, discreetly scourgifying his shirt. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?" she said, her temper flaring.

"I didn't mean anything. Just that, I'm used to crying!"

"Ugh!" Hermione exclaimed. "Well lucky me." She glared up at their wands, still stuck in the ceiling. "Lift me up." she ordered Tom.

"Pardon me?"

"Lift. Me. Up. It's the only way to get our wands." Hermione said matter of factly.

Tom raised his eyebrows, amused. "At your service, Miss Payne." He hugged her around her legs and lifted her up. Hermione reached as high up as she could, grasping at air.

"Keep trying," Tom said, his voice muffled against Hermione's stomach, "you're only about four feet off."

"Well, do you have a better idea?" Hermione huffed as he lowers her to the ground.

"Why not stand on my shoulders. You can get onto my shoulders, right?" He grinned down at her, baring a feral smile.

"That's a bad idea. I am hardly balanced enough."

"You'll be leaning on the wall, it's fine. And I'll catch you if you fall."

"Ugh. Ok, let's try it."

Tom started to bend down and then stopped. He looked at Hermione. "First, take off your shoes please, I like these robes."

Hermione grimaced but did as he said without complaining, kicking off her sensible loafers. He leaned back against the wall and crouched down so she could use his clasped hands as a step to climb onto his shoulders. Once she was standing on his shoulders, facing the wall, he slowly straightened his legs until he was standing at his full height.

"Are you ok?" he said.

"Fine," Hermione choked out, clutching at the wall, "just feeling terrifyingly unbalanced." She made no move to reach up to where the wands were lodged.

"Hello? Are you getting anywhere? Or do you want to take a nap while you're up there."

"Just a second!" Hermione hissed, gathering the courage to reach up. She straightened herself and reached as high as she could. Her fingers brushed one of the wands. Going on to her tiptoes, she was just able to grasp one, and tried to pull, but it didn't budge. "Blimey," she muttered as she grasped it firmly and started tugging at it.

"Any luck? Let me know, all I can see from here are some scandalously racy knickers."

"Hey!" She looked down, infuriated and abruptly lost balance." Tom caught her and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Surprised, Tom then lost balance and firmly sat on the marble floor, Hermione straddling his lap.

The stared at each other for a moment, both in shock. Tom recovered first and said, in a surprisingly breathless voice, "Well if you wanted me this way, all you had to do was ask, Hermione."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she could feel herself reddening to the roots of her hair. "Ugh!" she huffed and shot up, Tom chuckling as he stood up and dusted himself off. "Here's your wand." She had at least managed to yank it free in her fall, and she held it out to him. "Can you please release mine." Without taking his wand, Tom wandlessly summoned Hermione's from the ceiling, and presented it to her as if it were a red rose. Hermione stared at him, wondering if her head could actually explode from annoyance. "Are you serious? You could have just –"

"Don't tell me you can't"? Tom laughed, "War heroine and all, and you can't do a simple bit of wandless magic?" Hermione reddened further realizing she very well could have summoned the stupid wand. Tom seeing the dawning on her face laughed harder, "Don't worry, sometimes I forget too that I am a formidable wizard going to a magical school in a magical world." They exchanged wands.

"I'm no war heroine," she muttered.

Hermione wasn't sure what about the past five minutes to be most embarrassed about, forgetting she could do wandless magic, having Tom shamelessly look up her skirt, and then somehow falling straight into his lap. "Well, I need to get back to Gryffindor tower. No one's here anymore, it's clear." She leaned out of the alcove and looked down the corridor.

"I'll still escort you, I insist." Hermione grimaced openly. "Or I could deduct more points for wandering the grounds past curfew."

"I wasn't –."

"Your shoes say otherwise." Hermione looked at her discarded loafers, which had unmistakable flecks of mud and grass on the edges. She huffed as she slipped them back on.

"How could I refuse a gentleman," she said, turning on her heel and stomping down the hallway.

Tom fell into stride beside Hermione. "That was a nice illusion you made earlier." Hermione remained silent. He could escort her through the corridors but she didn't have to talk to him she thought angrily.

"It seemed that even when they touched the trees or leaves, they were solid."

"The key is, make the visible bark and the falling leaves real. And then -." Hermione stopped herself, pressing her lips together firmly. Don't talk to Voldemort, don't talk to Voldemort she chanted in her head.

Tom continued as if nothing had happened, but Hermione could hear the smirk in his voice. "Letting her be able to explode the boulders was also a nice touch." Hermione smiled and then frowned quickly again. Tom continued, "though I do feel like you got caught up in the illusion too. It didn't seem like it was all under control. You seem like someone who would be better at strategy instead of just letting it all explode and hell to the consequences."

"I'm not used to dueling alone," Hermione snapped. She glanced at Tom's questioning expression and looked ahead again as they walked on. "I usually am working with a partner. Or a group of people. Never alone." She said quietly.

"Alone?" Hermione was quiet again. "Come on, Hermione. Don't be mad. I'm sorry I peeked at your knickers," he teased.

"I'm hardly mad about that. Though you are a perverted arse!" She shoved him and he stumbled a step.

He laughed, "Perverted arse! Well, I suppose I'm hardly offended."

"I'm more mad that you're, you're..." Lord Voldemort, she thought, a murderous tyrant. "It's nothing. I'm sorry, I'm just tired."

"The Ravenclaws," He drawled, "If I remember correctly, it was you who thought you should defend them. Why did you lie about that being a friendly duel? They're foul. They didn't deserve your cover."

"I didn't necessarily do it to be nice." Hermione countered. "And you! You're actually in a position of authority. You should have stripped that prefect of his badge."

"Melvin Fudge? That would have hardly been a good move. I have an image to maintain, and connections to build not break." Hermione rolled her eyes. "But back to the subject, why did you want to protect those bullies? So they could hex a first year within an inch of their life tomorrow?"

"No! I suppose I just don't believe in corporal punishment. For example, they mentioned a boy who was expelled for potentially killing a student...I just dont agree with a system that thinks that's ok. If the punishment is not teaching anyone how to right a wrong...it's going to make society worse. Expelling someone, isolating them, taking away their future. It's wrong."

"So you would let a murderer stay in the school?" Tom said incredulously.

He's not a murderer, she thought sadly. She looked at Tom. "I'm a murderer. Why am I allowed to be here? Maybe you're a murderer," she said.

"So if I were maybe a murderer, would you think I deserved to be here? To roam the halls with the rest of the innocent, darling children?

Hermione looked at the future dark lord. Did she really believe that anyone could be redeemed? Even a younger Lord Voldemort? He had already killed his family and Moaning Myrtle. Did this monster really belong at Hogwarts? As well as Salomar and Melvin and Sid and Archie? She breathed in. "Yes," she breathed. "I do. No matter how evil you think you are. No one is beyond saving. But," she added, "They have to want it as well. Want to change, to be a productive member of society."

Tom scoffed. "Of course, a productive member of society," he said, feeling every word with scorn. "And what if they don't want it?"

"Well, we can banish them. If we cant banish them, then we kill them." Hermione deadpanned.

Tom laughed, a genuine laugh that echoed in the hallways. "Harsh, but I suppose I could give you my vote for Minister of Magic."

Hermione grinned. "I'm flattered! But I'm not interested in politics."

"Yes, that would be so boring. Best stick to dueling. You are quite the formidable dueler."

"Hah! You only saw the end of it. And by then, it was a horrible mess."

"No, actually. I stumbled upon that little encounter from when Salomar Ranke so dramatically announced her name. But I wouldn't mind if you knew mine," he mimicked, "Salomar!'"

"You prat! I could have gotten seriously injured!"

"Not at all. You hardly broke a sweat."

"That girl sent a slicing hex that nearly took my head off!"

Tom chuckled. "Yes, it was a daring move for 'friendly fire.'" Then, he added, "don't you think menaces like those four belong somewhere less friendly than Hogwarts? Say, Azkaban?"

"No!" Hermione said with vehemence. Riddle raised his eyebrows. "Look, it's a complicated discussion. But skipping all the talk about law and order and punishment, I don't see them as purely evil. Their intentions were almost...noble. In fact, I think I would love to have Salomar and her friends on my side."

"What is your side?"

"My side," Hermione mused, "I suppose, the side of the light. Here to establish order and dignity and..."

"And I would love to have them on _my_ side. You know, pillaging, raping, thieving, causing general chaos and despair."

"Wearing all black from head to toe." Hermione added. They laughed.

"But in all seriousness, you will never get Salomar Ranke onto your side. She's not only a racist, elitist turd, but all of her friends are. Her whole family is. Her future depends on her falling in line."

"What is a future that feels like ash, where you have to hide what you feel is just? That's no future at all. That girl has passion! I don't think it makes any sense to pretend that she's a lost cause because it's directed at the wrong thing. She doesn't have to go live in a- a tent! Or dig trenches! We need people in all different kinds of roles. And also, if she's willing to pull a stunt like that in the Hogwarts hallway where a professor could round the corner at any moment, I highly doubt she has any problem making people mad! Taking risks!"

"Quite the visionary you are. But Hermione, you forget, you are a stranger here. You have no one. You have nothing. Whatever you have to offer your potential little soldiers, it's just a silly dream. People are motivated by money and greed and fear."

"You're wrong. Dreams can build movements." Tom smiled cryptically. Hermione continued, "Ok, then it's a bet. Whoever can get them onto their side by the end of the term wins."

"But Hermione, first we would have to establish a bit more clearly, who is your side?"

"Who is my side? Who is your side!"

Tom looked at Hermione and chewed on his lip in thought. Finally, he blurted out, "So what's Grindelwald like?"

"What? A lunatic? A brainless magical being who has a penis and so he swiftly ascended to power?"

"Tsk Tsk, Hermione. A fine way to talk about your superiors.

"My – my – what? I would never. What are you even on about?"

"I'm just continuing the conversation we have been having. Don't you work with him? And you had to run away because he's losing?"

"What in the bloody hell are you on about? Keep your voice down." Hermione stopped walking and dragged Tom into a corner.

"Ah, so I am on to something and you don't want anyone to hear!"

"No, I don't want this supposed rumor mill of a school to think the new girl refugee is a terrorist. Merlin! And you are the loudest whisperer ever! You are not discreet! I do not nor have ever nor would ever work for Grindelwald. Are you crazy?" she hissed pulling up her sleeve, "did you not see what was carved into my arm?"

"I supposed I was confused about it, yes, but you seemed so unapologetic. There's something badass about the way you carried yourself and didn't care what anyone thought about it."

"What does that have to do with Grindelwald. Why on earth would you think that I'm with him?"

"You said it to me in the hospital wing on the first night that I met you."

"I did?"

"How could I forget. I haven't told anyone. Your secret is safe with me."

"Tom, I was kind of loopy. In my state I probably thought it was funny or would scare you into leaving."

"Oh," Tom said, sounding disappointed.

They walked on in silence, to Hermione's relief. She stopped at the Fat Lady and turned to Tom to thank him. He was looking at her with a strange expression. "What?" she said.

"I'm sorry about your scar. And that you were attacked today." Tom opened his mouth to say something more, but stopped. They both turned and to see smoke coming down the hall and heard fighting break out.

"Those second years are really going crazy for the first night of the school year. I suppose you must attend to your head boy duties." Hermione said as he turned his head to look at the noise in annoyance.

"Yes, probably. You should get back to your dorms quickly and don't wander around after dark again."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Feeling reckless again, she opened the door and turned back to face Tom, "Why of course, My Lord."

Tom froze as Hermione nonchalantly entered the portrait and slammed it closed in his face.


	6. Chapter 6: Hogsmeade Resists

Chapter 6: Hogsmeade Resists

**Thank you all for your thoughtful reviews, favorites and follows! Here's another one.**

:::

A hooded figure apparated onto a dark, winding, cobblestone street. Warm light glowed from the windows of the residences and the comforting murmur of families eating dinner could be heard echoing in the quiet neighborhood. The pale yellow moon shone above as the figure approached a small pub.

She took her cloak off inside and asked for a firewhiskey, smoothing her long red hair.

"You look a little young to be asking for a drink." A man said gruffly from behind the bar.

"I swear I'm of age. And I'm good for it," She dropped a small purse of coins which clinked as it landed on the scarred wood of the bar.

The man pushed it away. "You know your money's no good here," he smiled. "Is Settima ok with your drinking?" He frowned but there was mirth in his eyes.

"Please, I'm a little nervous. Just to take the edge off."

"Your first meeting?"

"Yes."

"No need to be nervous. Everyone's friendly, and not like you'll be presenting anything or speaking much. You'll be like a little bowtruckle waiting in the grass."

"I hope so. I've been taking a tour of the city with Loksgore all day. I'm so tired."

He poured a steaming shot and slid it across the bar. "You didn't bring him with you?"

She knocked it back and slammed the shot onto the table with a little more force than she intended. She licked her lips. It burned all the way down to her belly. "He didn't want to come, something about having enough wizarding drivel for one day. Though I could say the same about him. One more?" She smiled innocently.

"Hmph. All the goblin ever gives me is a glare. He must like you." He sighed, "Don't tell Settima. Or better yet, your uncle either." He poured her another glass of firewhiskey, smoke trailing from the golden liquid as he slid it across the bar to her open hand. She knocked it back again. She felt her head tingling, her cheeks a bit warm. He had poured her some water too which she gulped down gratefully. Ginny stood up.

"Tell your aunt Settima I'm going to be down in a minute, just need to finish closing up here."

Ginny nodded. "Thank you, Aberforth." She walked to the back of the tiny pub, pulled open a door and was immediately flooded with heat and light from the crowded, lamplit room. Twenty wizards and witches were stuffed inside. Ginny spotted Settima and made her way across the chairs to settle into a seat next to her.

"You're late!" Settima frowned, whispering loudly.

"Sorry aunty, it's not my fault! Loksgore insisted we see the Lyrne Oren pits where they get the ore for goblin swords. The conditions were just horrible. The goblins there were friendlier than the ones at Gringotts though. Smell worse too." she whispered back.

Settima wrinkled her nose, "He took you there?! That smell could knock a wizard out. I was going to ask Verona to take you on the brooms so you wouldn't have to over exert yourself and risk...anyways, let's talk later. I'll catch you up at home." She drifted off, turning to face the front of the room, where an old wizard was looking at the talking pair with exaggerated sternness.

Next to him stood a hunched and wrinkled old witch holding a handkerchief which she shook forcefully with every emphasis she made. "I'm sick and tired of doing my herbs on the corner of Groen Way and Wartshull. I had my own stand for twenty five years before they forced me to leave my spot and join the waged workers. That wretched corner! And they don't pay you well. And they pay muggleborns less."

Ginny looked around the room. Aberforth had shown her around the back room on her first night in 1944, but it was empty then – both of people and any trace of activity. A ward kept it empty even from Order members themselves. Unless seven willing members were inside, it would appear to be a dusty old closet full of cobwebs and shadows. Tonight it was full of people, with news clippings, posters, and banners cluttering the walls.

The old witch sat down and another woman with a stern look on her face and with tangled brown hair that reached her hips took her place. She stood and spoke clearly, looking around the room. "Yesterday there was a raid in Little Hangelton. They knocked on doors of people to see if they were harboring escaped house elves. They knocked on my door, and I blasted them down the steps before they could enter. I was trying to ask them why they thought to come to my house. They said they were knocking on everyone's doors, but I know for a fact they didn't. They were targeting some people, I just don't know how they were choosing who. I had to move Slinky and Toadle, though they are right clever and could have probably disappeared without a trace...but I'm afraid they put the trace on the house elves. We knew the trace was a bad idea, we need to fight it. For our children, for the house elves, for all magical creatures." People around the room yelled their agreement.

On a wall in the nearest corner, Ginny could see some flyers tacked up haphazardly to the wood panelled walls.

Ally training for purebloods. Learn how to support the muggleborns in your life!

Support the resistance in Chemin Morgane Le Fay! Send sickles on the monthly hippogrif to Maison Canut, Lyon & Maison Blanqui, Puget-Théniers

MAGICAL CREATURES UNITE

Redcap Goblins of the World Negotiations

December 17th

Bimblebog Square Union Haus

Ginny's attention was then caught by a moving magical poster of that read, UNITED WE BARGAIN, DIVIDED WE BEG. In the middle of the large block lettering was a detailed drawing of a variety of hands holding onto a torch and raising into the air in a display of solidarity. It included all kinds of magical creatures. She could identify house elf, wizard, goblin, werewolf, and even a unicorn hoof and some kind of bird's talon awkwardly tapping the torch before retreating from the frame. A giant's fist also came into view occasionally, taking up the whole poster before retreating backward.

Ginny was startled as Settima nudged her out if her observations. She looked to the front where an old wizard with a drawn face and an afro of brilliant white hair was looking at her. "Announce yourself stranger. Who are you, where do you come from?"

Ginny stood up. "My name is Ginevra Weasley. My family was in France for a long time but we just moved back here. Well, I did, alone and joined my family who lives here in Hogsmeade. I'm a Weasley, distantly related, and my Aunt Settima already brought me into some of the pamphlet making projects you are all working on."

"I'm interested in getting involved and helping in any way I can. I'm helping interview people on their labor conditions throughout the western shires and I want to do a write up on the conditions and plans in the different camps, mines, and houses. We thought it would be a good idea to add information to the pamphlets we're distributing and the policy report we will submit to the ministry."

She moved to sit down but then changed her mind. She was going to wait a few meetings to announce this, but then she felt like it would be ok to ask them for help right away. She continued,

"I'm looking to interview some people in the countryside about their organizing work as it relates to ours...I believe there are sort of collectives in the north, I'm trying to get in touch with some people there, let me know if you have any help. I know a main organizer's name is Catania Whorl."

There was an uproar in the room. "I think it's important to add their ideas," Ginny continued.

People stood up to yell. "They're troublemakers the lot of them!"

"Whorl and her lot will bring about Grindelwald's reign of terror!"

Ginny stood, feeling her ears redden as a room full of wizards erupted into angry shouts.

"Silence!" The wizard who had asked Ginny to speak up called for order. Then he turned to Ginny. "No one here can help you, child. But we welcome you here. Welcome. Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."

Ginny nodded dumbly. Settima pulled her to sit back down.

More wizards got up to speak. There were discussions about upcoming meetings, working groups, protests. There were long complaints, laughter, and tangents that lasted far too long. The meeting stretched long into the night and when they were finally getting up to leave, Ginny wondered aloud how they had weekly meetings like this.

"There's a lot going on in Hogsmeade dearie, and in the wizarding world at large, you know. A lot of work to do."

Someone from the meeting approached Ginny as she waited for Settima in the cool night air outside of the bar. His hat was pulled low, but there was something oddly familiar about him. Ginny couldn't quite place it.

"I might be able to help you. Meet me at this location tomorrow. Come alone." He handed Ginny a piece of paper.

_Hawthorne Tavern_

_Wells Alley_

_Barfreystone_

Ginny looked up and raised her eyebrow.

"You can call me Fareed." he said, and turned on the spot and apparated away.

:::

The door to the Weasley's cavernous, creaky home slammed closed as the Weasleys retreated inside. Settima whisked their coats and bags away and went to work lighting the torches in the rooms. Ginny was thrilled to meet her grandfather and great aunt. They were twins, a trait that she knew ran in her family. Well into their fifties, Settima, a widower, already had grandchildren, while Septimus was still a sort of a bachelor. The siblings now lived together in Hogsmeade in a third floor apartment at the end of a lamplit street on the outskirts of the town.

"I almost wish you could be at school. It's a hard set o' tasks you've set out for yourself. And it'll be hard to make friends. Mostly hanging out with us old wrinkly fools." Settima looked at Ginny kindly. Their descendant from the future had already confided in them who she was and pieces of her mission with Hermione. She needed their support, and for them to cover for her as their distantly related niece from France. While Hermione was at Hogwarts, Ginny had her own tasks. They hadn't planned to split up. The split was also strange in that it was a reversal of their roles over the past few years. Hermione researching and building support at Hogwarts, Ginny exploring and gathering information out in the field.

"No," she shook her head, "I am so thankful to be with you all. I've heard so much about you from dad, I'm thankful we could meet. It's the best part about this whole mess...and I was thinking of joining Hermione at Hogwarts when we first arrived..." _But I can't go back there. _"But our plans changed. I think this way is better."

"You were a fifth year when ye left, pumpkin?"

Ginny startled. "No, I was mostly through my seventh. But I...I was between the castle and the Order most of the time. Things were so bad I could skip whole weeks of class and no one would notice."

Septimus grinned, his dark, thick eyebrows crinkling in laughter, their color contrasting with his pale green eyes and long red hair which was tied in a low, messy ponytail. "Can you believe that Settima. I still can't get over that our Order grew and lasted til the second wizarding war." He laughed heartily.

Settima slapped him on the shoulder. "You old codger. It lasted because of the war, not because it became some stupid society thing."

"Oh, yes that's terrible it is." He said, walking into the kitchen and peering seriously at a shelf of cookbooks. Ginny watched him tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear and pull a large dusty tome from a shelf. He summoned his glasses and began to leaf through the book as Settima and Ginny joined him around the kitchen table.

Septimus sat down to read and rubbed at his eyes. Settima poured the three of them each a glass of firewhiskey. she stopped before Ginny's glass, "Did you have anything to drink already?" she said, accusingly.

"No," Ginny nodded with a grin. Settima narrowed her eyes but poured her a drink anyway.

"Septimus, can you believe that little bludger took Ginny to the ore pits! She coulda died from the fumes alone."

Ginny perked up. "I could have what?"

Septimus waved her off. "It's not the twenties anymore, dear sister. Nothing a bit of pepper up potion can't cure."

"That's not the point," Settima grumbled.

"That was a long meeting," Ginny said. "Don't they keep time?"

"Huh! You haven't seen the half of it. Those people love to talk and squabble. Half of their political plotting is gossip."

"Anty, Uncle, how come Dumbledore wasn't at this meeting? Isn't this something he started?" Ginny asked, fingering her worn Gryffindor scarf. Septimus looked up from a recipe for lamb heart and strangler fig stew to make uneasy eye contact with Settima. He got up and walked to the stove and started waving his wand, filling the pots with water and chopping ingredients.

Settima chewed her lip as she poured the three of them another round. "He hasn't seen eye to eye with some of the resistance. There was a squabble a few weeks ago and he has kept his distance. He's busy with problems at Hogwarts anyway. You create something and it expands past you. He's been away too much to keep track of what's going on on the ground."

Ginny frowned. She had explained to them that before Dumbledore died he left the order a trunk of pensieve memories from this period. She and Hermione had used them to create a timeline of the order and study this year, which seemed to be pivotal in the war. But he didn't mention this at all. Maybe he was worried. Ginny furrowed her brow and took a sip of firewhiskey. "What was the squabble about?"

Settima sighed and took a sip of her drink as well and let her hair out of its tight red and silver braid. "Some people think he should leave all this administrative ballyhoo behind, trying to get students out of the war zone one by one. Really, anyone can do paperwork. People want him to take a...more combative role in the war. The Order thinks – well, some people in the Order – think that we should be fighting Grindelwald. Directly."

"Isn't helping refugees important? I'm sure his influence could bring more families through ministry bureaucracy over someone else."

"I wholly agree. I'm with Dumbledore 100%." said Septimus from the midst of a racket of pots, food, and knives.

Settima looked thoughtful. "Maybe 85 percent." She chuckled. "He used to be a fiery duelist. You should have seen him when he was younger! Like his wand was a part of his body! Like nothing could contain him! To be honest, when he took the position, I knew he loved to teach, but I didn't think he would last long at Hogwarts. If ever there was a dreamer, that was Dumbledore. I thought he would travel. And he hates the bureaucracy. More so lately because he seems so tired. And the paperwork, it's important. But some say he's hiding behind it."

Settima put her arm around Ginny and squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Maybe we should set up some tutoring for you. You probably didn't have much of an education with all that war and what not." She trailed off, looking over her grand-niece with concern.

Ginny snorted. "That's an understatement. I probably haven't retained anything since my first week of Hogwarts, to be honest."

"Don't let her sink her talons into you!" Septimus whirled around, barely dodging a flying knife, to shake his finger at Ginny, "Now that her own children are grown and gone, she's looking for a project!"

Settima ignored her brother and looked at Ginny severely. "What in Merlin's name do you mean, child? I understand there was a war but -"

"It was the same with me." Septimus interjected, wiping his hands and wand on what looked like a greasy towel made into an apron and sitting down at the table again with them. "I was never one for school. Much preferred the quidditch pitch. You mentioned you were a quidditch star yourself, weren't you?"

Ginny frowned at her empty glass and looked up briefly at her grandfather. "Yes. Seeker."

"I remember the old days, chasing that golden snitch, mostly I was a keeper, but sometimes I played seeker as well!"

"Chasing skirts is what you used to do!" Settima said, thwacking him on the head with a rolled up newspaper.

Ginny laughed along with them, feeling real mirth.

Settima turned on Ginny again. "Now. We should go over some theory together. There's nothing more dangerous than a skilled witch without a firm knowledge of history and theory."

Ginny panicked. "I was exaggerating, aunt Settima. I was a good student, at least up to my fifth year." She smiled innocently.

Settima got up and walked to the adjacent living room and pulled a dusty book off the shelf. "As much trouble as you girls plan on getting into, I know how it really is. Organizing is boring sometimes. A lot of the time. You can't talk to people and sit in stuffy meetings all day, you need to break it up. Take this with you." She dropped the book onto the table with a thud. The massive tome caused the table to shake. It seemed to beam expectantly at Ginny.

"This is gigantic!" she whined. "I'll attract attention."

"You're damned right, a pretty girl reading a book as large as her is a funny sight, even in Diagon Alley." Septimus said, pouring himself another drink.

Settima wouldn't budge. "You're a smart girl, Ginevra. If you've done up to fifth year magic, you can transfigure it into something reasonable."

Ginny frowned at the book. She swept away some dust on the cover.

_Magical Theory. All you need to know to accompany potionmaking, charms, herbology, transfiguration, arithmancy, defensive dueling, and more!_

"I've never seen this book before."

"That's because it's not used in Hogwarts. You all have specialized books there. This is used by homeschooled children and witches and wizards who marry before their schooling is finished. Read chapter one by Friday and I'll quiz you on it."

"You can't give me homework!"

Setttima chuckled and patted Ginny's hand. Septimus shook his head. Ginny realized there was no negotiating.

"Time travelling smarty pants or not, you will study. You have your work cut out for you."

Ginny tried not to roll her eyes. Suddenly the warm family felt suffocating. She wasn't sure if she was cut out to being treated like a wayward teenager. They had no idea what she'd been through. She yawned, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing upon her. "Sorry, I'm so tired. I think I'll skip dinner and go to sleep. If that's ok?"

"But I'm making black heart stew!" Septimus exclaimed. "It'll be done in only," he looked at his pocket watch, "89 minutes and a half."

Settima patted Ginny's hand again. "Don't worry, you get some rest. We'll make sure you double up on breakfast." She winked at her and rose to go stir the pot.

Ginny stood up and grabbed her new Magical Theory text. She bid them goodnight and made her way to her bedroom. She sat on her bed, fingering the edges of the textbook, lost in thought.

"Ginevra." Septimus appeared at the doorway.

"Oh, hi again grandpa." She pushed the book off of her lap onto the bed.

"Don't call me that, you'll get too used to it."

"Ok, I know, I know. Uncle Septimus."

"You have a letter from Hermione." He held a scroll out to Ginny.

She took the letter and ripped it open.

Hey Gin,

Hogwarts is...nice. But in a way that's unsettling. You not being here...it feels weird. I miss you. Nevertheless I've been able to fall into a rhythm of socializing and classes in a way that's frightening. I guess it's only been a week. Anyway, on to business. I've spoken to Winky and Silas. They invited me to the kitchens to talk to the rest of the elves. I didn't give them any socks. They're wary of me anyway. Crossing my fingers for first contact with the Good Elf Association. Floo me in Dumbledore's office at 10pm tomorrow night. I'll be waiting.

\- H

The letter caught fire as soon as Ginny finished reading it, delicate red flames that burned the parchment and nothing else. She smiled. Hermione was always good with fire.

She grabbed her bag from the floor and began pulling things out of it and arranging them on her desk. Some parchment, quills, a black leather journal with a silvery sheen.

Septimus was leaning in the doorway still, watching her.

"That looks suspect."

"What?"

"That diary of yours. It's too distinctive."

Ginny felt the rough leather before dropping it onto her bed and shoving her hand back into her bag. "I like distinctive things." The chosen one, she thought. Tom Riddle's diary. Being quidditch seeker. Like her shock of hair would let her be anything but. As if every day since the first day of second year would let her be anything but. She walked through the halls in a school where everyone knew she had been possessed by the splintered piece of Lord Voldemort's soul. She had no choice but to stand out.

"But you're here to blend in. You should make yourself look like everyone else, just for a little while. And don't worry about being some heroine or powerful leader." Ginny sighed. This wasn't about the diary. She could feel a speech coming. Septimus continued. "You can't win these people overnight. Trust takes time. You want to change direction? Shut up. Be quiet. Listen." He looked at her hard, "listen."

Ginny was clenched her jaw. She felt rotten for being mad at all at Septimus, he was just trying to help. But she didn't need a lecture on how to work with people. She knew she had to pay attention. She didn't need a new parent who barely knew anything about what she had been through trying to tell her how the world worked.

"Like a bowtruckle in the grass." Ginny looked up.

He walked into the room and sat on the bed next to her. "Aberforth told me you spoke. I'm just getting to know you. I can't pretend to know what you've been through. But don't drown your problems in drink. If you need to talk, I'm here. Settima is here. There are a lot of people you have to be wary of, but also a lot of people here you can trust."

Ginny nodded. She felt a little embarrassed, but also felt her anger growing. She didn't need help. She _had_ been through enough and she didn't need any help from these sheltered adults who thought they knew her. "You need to take care of yourself," Septimus added, "Don't sacrifice your health. Your sanity."

"I don't know. I've already made a lot of sacrifices by coming here." she said, fingering a locket on a long chain around her neck. She opened it and peered at the pictures. On one side was a tiny moving photo of her family, different members struggling to get closer to the camera. On the other side, a muggle photograph of Harry.


	7. Chapter 7: La Belle et la Bête

Chapter 7: La belle et la bête

**WOW IT HAS BEEN A CRAZY WINTER AND SPRING. I hope you are all safe and healthy wherever you are. I have been adjusting to this new quarantine life slowly, trying not to read the news too much and stay close to my loved ones. I've also gotten into audiobooks since I am really over screens. I suppose one benefit is that I can crank out a few chapters. I'm curious about your reactions to my depiction of a young Dumbledore! And yes, Hermione and Ginny are kind of running two parallel story lines. When will the worlds collide?**

:::

"Breakfast, dear? Or should I say lunch!" Settima poked her head into Ginny's cramped bedroom. All it fit were a desk, a twin bed, and a wardrobe at its foot. What made it worse was that Ginny's luggage, now unshrunk, was squashed between the bed and the desk and had clothes, books, and various gadgets spilling out of it.

Ginny groaned, pulling her covers over her head. Settima's eyes flitted across the mess but she made no comment. "Wake up child, there's a past to change!" With a flick of her wand, she blew the blanket off of the bed and against the wall. Ginny clutched at it so it towered vertically over her for a moment before collapsing into a pile onto her head. Defeated, she lay there, flannel nighty exposed. Settima had insisted on her wearing it, fussing that the tiny window in her room let in a draft no matter how many sealing charms she applied to it.

As she gathered the will to get up, she heard a tapping at her window. Freeing herself, she stood up to see a bird with a scroll in its beak. Another letter from Hermione, she thought. But it wasn't the usual, mottled brown Hogwarts owl. It was a crow with silky black wings. It's head twitched and its keen eyes fixated on her. Ginny grabbed her wand before letting it in. It landed on the dresser, looking at her as if she were dumb. It made no move to give her the paper. Ginny eyed its sharp talons, curious that its post wasn't tied to them but clutched in its beak. Ginny mulled over how she would free the parchment. She wondered if she was she still somewhat drunk from the evening before. She felt smelly, groggy, and had a pulsing headache. She felt physically and emotionally like a troll. And now this. Never in her years had she seen a crow deliver post, though it was hardly unheard of.

It's too early for strangeness, she said aloud. Upon hearing her voice, the bird released the parchment and it uncurled in midair, revealing an intricate map. Words rose from the paper like mist, and golden script formed in front of her eyes before dissolving.

_Hawthorn Tavern at 1_

The crow then hopped awkwardly from desk to bed to windowsill and disappeared into the cloudy afternoon sky. Ginny cast several diagnostic spells before deciding it was safe and snatched the parchment out of the air. It was a richly detailed map of the main street of Hogsmeade. She studied the map noticing little dots moving around it, some doddering along, some popping in and out of existence. Most were blue and labeled wizard, though there were others for magical beings like goblin, house elf, and she even saw a few gnomes in a garden at the corner. Her hands trembled, it looked so much like the Marauders Map. There was an arrow pointing to a dot seated at a table outside of Hawthorn Tavern labeled Fareed. Clever boy, she thought, a grimace marring her features, and how kind of him to send her a reminder. She surely would not have shown up, but now she had to if only out of curiosity about the map.

She looked at the old clock on the wall. It was 12:47.

By the time she sat down in Hawthorn Tavern, Fareed seem to have burned through an entire pot of tea.

He stood when she arrived. "Thank you for joining me," he said, pulling her seat out.

"To be honest, I almost didn't." Ginny replied sitting down and crossing her arms on the table. "The map was a nice touch. And the bird?"

"The most intelligent flying thing you might ever meet! And well, I'm risking a lot being here. I wanted to be sure you would show up."

Ginny laughed. "Well, here I am." Blinking in the sun, she could almost feel the purple shadows under her eyes. She let Fareed pour her a cup of tea and wished for the pair of sunglasses that Hermione had given her for Christmas. "If you're afraid of helping then why do it?"

"I never said that I'm afraid," he huffed. "Quite the opposite. I'm a brave warrior of a man. Don't be mistaken to think that I'm doing this for you alone, though I am pleased to have the company of any fine young lady, such as yourself. I'll admit to you this, I have lived a wretched, meaningless, privileged life which I am now trying to make amends for with the rest of it. And I'm not the only one. There are a circle of us pureblooded fools who want to help making the wizarding world better."

A privileged pureblood? Ginny sat up a little, and narrowed her eyes at her companion. "So what do you deign to help the Order and Whorl with? You fund the movements?"

He wrinkled his nose. "To an extent, I do. But mostly, I try to build bridges. What you are trying to do," he said, sipping his tea.

Ginny studied his face. He looked quite familiar to her but she couldn't place him. He had a bulbous nose, muddy brown eyes, pockmarked skin, large ears, and dirty blond hair that stuck out at odd angles. All meaningless features when she thought of the catalogue of pureblood traits she was familiar with. And yet...

He was wearing a threadbare black cloak that looked more woeful as the sun encroached on his seat and exposed its state of disrepair. He looked like he just stumbled out from a nap in an alleyway. And yet his posture and the way he held his tea was regal, his expression was as keen as the crow who visited her. She also thought she could smell something like a musk oil on his person. "Are you in disguise?"

He smiled into his drink and nodded his head. When he looked up at her, she felt for sure that she knew who he was. "I'm using a diluted polyjuice potion. It doesn't completely turn me into another person, just about a quarter of the way there. It's a poor man's way of making a small batch last. Can be quite lethal too if you dilute it with the wrong substance. But no, my fair lady, I'm not poor, I'm just lazy. Skillful, yet lazy. I can make one batch stretch a year! And then I don't have to answer any blasted questions." He leaned forward and lowered his voice, "You get put on a registry if you buy too much. And Merlin knows I don't want to sit around for a whole bloody month and brew it myself. Back at Hogwarts I could bribe some people to brew it but, at this moment and place in my short life, I don't know many people with the fantastic combination of loose morals, expertise, and time." He leaned back and gave Ginny a sheepish look that melted into a smirk, "You wouldn't happen to know any such person, would you?"

Ginny laughed. "Trust me, I don't know anyone here. And I won't carry on about your identity to the press. Besides, I'm hardly interested in your mysterious pureblood reputation."

Fareed nodded. "It wasn't too bright of you to mention your plans to meet with Caterina. Whorl and the Order, those two groups don't get along. The memberships disagree on a mountain of things."

"I know." Ginny frowned. This was one of the reasons they had returned. The Order of the Phoenix should have joined Caterina Whorl and her organizers. They could have fed off of each other, been united. But early on they had major disagreements about how to fight the growing encroachment of the Ministry on the freedoms of Britain's wizards and witches. One thought that the way was through the complete overthrow of the ministry, its mandate of the structure of wizarding society and court systems, rooting it out at its core. The other believed in efforts at gradual reform, returning to the status quo through advocacy. She was surprised that a group of purebloods would be interested in funding anarchists.

"Whose side are you on then? Caterina's I assume?"

Fareed sighed. "I suppose I support both. Maybe Caterina a bit more. Neither really wants our money, if I'm being frank. But they need it. The Order, since it's more concerned about protecting the way things are and improving them have more support if only because their ideas are more mainstream. Those of us who fund Caterina's work are absolute outcasts, runaways, cast off our family tree...or have agreed to be a supporter while still at home, spying and stealing from the family coffers for the cause."

Ginny nodded. "And you? Have you been blasted off the family tree?"

He laughed mirthlessly. "Unfortunately not. I have wanted to abandon my family for a long time. And then I met Caterina and learned about her work, what they're doing for muggleborns, werewolves... I discovered them and it was like I had come home. But they asked me not to." He leaned in again. "It's dangerous work, they are in a hidden location, and they need not just money but eyes on the inside. Everywhere I go, I have to be careful. It's kind of nerve wracking even though all I really do most of the time is sit around and look pretty." He grinned, lighting up his face.

As they finished their tea, Fareed volunteered to show Ginny around Hogsmeade. Though she was somewhat familiar with the state of the town in this time from a few walks with Septimus and Settima, she accepted his company. Maybe his perspective would be useful too. They strolled along, Fareed pointing out places he used to frequent with his friends, places to visit, places to avoid. Suddenly, he stopped and checked his pocket watch. He started when he noticed the time. "I apologize, it's time for me to go, but it has been a pleasure."

Ginny felt herself pouting rather petulantly despite herself. "That's a shame. It's been quite nice chatting. I've been missing talking to people my own age. Even if they are wretched, miserable purebloods. At least walk me to my Uncle's?" She batted her eyelashes at her companion.

He smiled back, seemingly not immune to the redhead's charm. They resumed walking and turned a corner. A small bakery came into view. Fareed, dropping his watch back into his pocket, started raving about the croissants and éclairs and that they had to try one. As he spoke, his nose started getting smaller, his skin cleared up, his eyes became an amber brown. His ears shrank and his hair became wavy, growing to his shoulders.

Ginny gasped then covered her mouth as she giggled. "I was wondering how long that silly disguise was going to last. I'm not sure what you cut your potions with, but it lasted far longer than the allotted hour."

"Trust me, it's safe." The now rather handsome wizard felt the smooth skin on his cheek and brushed his hair behind his ear. "Well, I suppose you do recognize me now. I was hoping you wouldn't realize who I was even without the disguise, having lived abroad and all." She had the feeling that he wanted her to see what he really looked like. As easygoing as the afternoon had been, he did not seem like such a careless type. And if she was right, this was a Slytherin after all.

"I'm not sure, you just look very familiar. Maybe I have met one of your relatives. What's your name? Do I dare ask?"

"You may. I would sure hope you have never met any of my ilk. My name is Alphard, from the esteemed, bigoted, impure house of Black."

Ginny nodded, smiling, happy that she had stumbled upon the one Black that she could probably trust. "I see. Now tell me something else. How did you make that map?"

:::

Dumbledore massaged his temple as a powder blue teapot poured steaming cinnamon tea into two plain white ceramic teacups. Hermione walked around Dumbledore's office, marveling at all of his things. It was full of all of the knick knacks that would one day fill his headmaster's office and more. Bookshelves filled the walls, reaching high to the ceiling. She could spot several shelves worth of large tomes on transfiguration. Where there weren't books, the walls were crowded with moving photos of him with friends, with his students, magical landscapes of important wizarding villages, small miniatures of men riding horses, a portrait of a house elf, and other exotic paintings from around the world. Other decorations were in a wild rainbow of colors. There were yellow cushions on the seats, a blue Persian rug filled the seating area before his desk, and about a dozen pink and red patterned socks were hanging from the fireplace. Hermione felt the thick wool, they looked like they were hand knit. He had probably seen them in some muggle's Christmas decorations. Or, more likely, they were gifts from different muggleborn students during the holidays. A large bucket next to his desk tiled with opalescent mosaics was full of about 100 wands of all shapes and sizes. Hermione looked out one of the large windows. It overlooked the black lake, the quidditch pitch, she could even see Hagrid's hut and Hogsmeade in the distance.

The dark final years of Dumbledore's life had made Hermione forget what his office betrayed: how much of a warm, friendly, lighthearted headmaster he had been. In contrast to Dippet, who in her short time in the past seemed to be a quite the serious and sometimes shrill leader. Hermione sat down across from Dumbledore and breathed in the delicious aroma of her tea. She eyed a stack of paperwork as Dumbledore pushed it aside. She could see the papers had the Ministry seal at the top.

The future headmaster clasped his hands together on his desk and smiled wanly at his new student. "I worry about why exactly you two came back, Hermione. As messy as your entrance was, it seemed well planned. It would have been near impossible if it wasn't. Magic like that is not handled lightly."

"I don't know how much I can tell you. It's not that I fear changing the timeline, we are obviously meddling. It's just, I'm not sure how much you would support our plans at this age.

"At this age? So I was a supporter later in my life." Dumbledore peered at her over his spectacles, a twinkle in his eyes.

Hermione grimaced. "Not entirely, you didn't exactly get to see the unfolding of the war. But if you could have seen how desperate we all became, how little the institutions that were supposed to support us did so, how horrible the crimes against wizards and muggles and all living creatures were, I know you would have come to understand and support us."

He nodded. "I suppose I reached an untimely death then. So I wasn't involved of helping you time travel?"

"On the contrary, your role was pivotal. This wouldn't have happened without you." Dumbledore nodded again, leaning back in his chair. Hermione continued, "Professor, I need to know, why do you trust me at all? I could be lying, a spy for Grindelwald. The head boy sure seems to think so."

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, Tom Riddle. I have noticed that you two have become acquainted. I suppose I simply don't have time to be suspicious of teenage boys and girls, I prefer to see the good in people, especially those who have had to struggle for even just a semblance of normalcy. Tom, unfortunately, has had a hard childhood, and he has already, I suspect, done some horrid things. Welcoming darkness into your heart makes you more wary of others. If you are duplicitous, you suspect others of also being so. But he is not rotten, just a bit selfish, insecure, misguided." He paused, cocking his ear to one side. He snapped his fingers to open the window just as Fawkes swooped in to land on his perch on Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore pet the fire red phoenix and it preened at the attention.

Hermione could not help but feel awe in the presence of the majestic creature. No matter how many times she saw the Fawkes it was still an incredible sight to behold. Dumbledore sighed, "Oh to be young and brash and feeling invincible. I remember my teen years, the feeling that nothing can touch you, that you are above all consequence. Riddle reminds me quite a bit of myself at that age. Being more clever than your peers makes you ever more arrogant. At that age, I also did not have great examples from my elders or peers. It took me many years to see the error of my ways. Every young person tests the limits of how far they can go, but most youth have people who push them back in line every step of the way.

Tom, unfortunately, charms his way out of most trouble. If it were a different time, I would have been happy to be his mentor. He's bored here, unchallenged, I can tell. But," Dumbledore eyed the mass of paperwork on his desk, "I cannot be the person he needs. Not that he would welcome that interference. This school has hundreds of students who are all seeking themselves, looking for help. As professors, there's only so much attention we can give. You students need to support each other."

Hermione nodded, unsurprised about Dumbledore's sentiments. She had become familiar with the fiery optimism, the fatigue, the slight feeling of helplessness of his younger self from the memories that he left behind for the Order.

"How is Hagrid doing?"

"Ah, that's another one who I have failed," he said bitterly. "He should have never been expelled. But we just didn't have the time. The political situation, as you have seen, is grim. I wanted to appeal, but Dippet struck the idea down. Defending a half giant accused of murder, even though it was his pet that was the supposed culprit, was dangerous. We only have so much political influence, and it comes with limits. We have to pick our battles."

Hermione frowned. "The Dumbledore I know wouldn't sacrifice someone like that," Hermione said, testing him.

Dumbledore looked at her keenly, "You think I wouldn't sacrifice someone...for the greater good?"

Hermione gulped. Her eye caught on a long silver chain around his neck, a vial of blood that seemed to ripple within the small column of glass. Dumbledore followed her eyes and clutched at the blood pact, the thing she knew he was struggling to break so that he could finally duel his rival, his former friend.

"So you know what is stopping me from putting an end to his reign of terror. I suppose you also know, that this is almost a gift, as it has all but absolved me of the responsibility to act. At least for now."

"I know you were friends, Professor." Hermione studied his reaction. He looked pained, grim.

"I knew it would come to light eventually. Any day now, I suppose. I get owls at all hours, people imploring me to fight. They must have guessed why by now."

"Not until after your death, actually."

He widened his eyes and turned away, staring out the window. Dusk had fallen and she could see lights in Hogsmeade village flickering on one by one. "Quite a long time to bear such a burden," he whispered. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out what looked like a small metal book. She opened it to see a picture of two young boys smiling with their arms around each other. "Love can make you do horrible things, Hermione." She smiled at the Transfiguration professor, and handed the photo back to him. He closed the metal case and slipped it back into his drawer. "It feels good to tell you, that at least one other person knows." He smiled back at her, looking quite young all of a sudden. Hermione could see the young boy in the photograph sitting across from her.

She wasn't expecting this show of vulnerability. She supposed that young Dumbledore was not yet on the pedestal he was on in her time, and that could explain how he felt he could be more open with his students. Or maybe it was the stress of all he was going through. Perhaps Hermione, like Ginny had become more able to manipulate people to her own ends.

"Professor, do you think...well, you held those same fanatical ideas and you changed. Do you think Gellert can change?"

He laughed. Fawkes startled. "First, Hermione, I must ask, do we live in a world where people care about someone like him being reformed? We blame the villain, we love to blame the villain, but not the movement. And conversely, we reward the hero, not the movement."

Hermione frowned, furrowing her brow in thought. She agreed of course. If a book were to be written about her adventures with Harry, it probably would not include her or Ron's name in any of the titles. According to newspapers, and probably to history, they were sidekicks at best, extra plot lines at worst.

"I think maybe my dear old friend might even realize now that his mania is not good for the wizarding world...or one day he will. But it's too late. How can one return from the devastation he has caused? And frankly, why should we let him? That intelligence, that charm, that vision. Who's to say if we forgive him his wrong deeds...he won't come back again. Rebuild."

Hermione nodded, chewing her lip. Maybe Dumbledore would be open to hearing about what she and Ginny were up to, if she could just gauge his reaction. "Do you ever think that the Ministry let it happen? That they let things devolve this much to weaken our will? If we didn't have the ministry, maybe we the people could have better control? Feel more empowered instead of just...voting every few years?"

Dumbledore shook his head fervently, raising his voice. "My dear child, the Ministry and their power to fight back is the only reason that we are still protected here. A helter skelter mass of wizards and witches with no organization, is that your solution?"

Hermione raised her voice too, sitting up taller. "Professor, I have no solutions. I have come back here to find them."

Dumbledore shrunk back, looking weary again. He sipped his tea. "But you have ideas?" Hermione nodded.

"I know that the Ministry leaves much to be desired. But they are all we have at the moment. Leadership is difficult. I know I, for one, abhor positions of leadership, but as you get older, they are foisted upon you whether or not you want them. Headmaster Dippet would like to retire. He has been so bothersome about it for the past five years. But I told him I would sooner leave Hogwarts than become Headmaster." He clutched at the blood pact, his knuckles whitening.

Hermione smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She knew he would struggle with his new role. She could imagine his fiery younger self pushing back, but like he said, how could he stop it? He was a natural born leader. Wherever he went people looked up to him for guidance, for protection. So wise and respected even as a young man, it only grew in leaps and bounds as he aged.

"Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority," Dumbledore said, giving an air of reverence to the spoken words.

"Yes but also... A man is hanged not because he can or cannot prove his claim to virtues, but because it can be proved that he has committed a particular crime. That one action overshadows the rest of his career. It is useless to argue that he is a good husband or a good poet. The one crime swells out of proportion to the rest..."

He beamed. Have you memorized that whole letter?

Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "No, but that part used to be pinned to my wall. and I would recite it often."

"Why ever would you want to reflect on that so much? So you can believe that one crime can outweigh a person's whole career?"

"So I can understand that we do not care about virtue as much as public image. Yes, why must a mistake cause us to want to throw away the whole person so they can rot in Azkaban? You see it as a reminder of why you don't want power, I agree that power corrupts, but I see it as a reminder of the mistakes we make when we seek to punish people. You said it yourself, we love villains and heroes, not those who made their greatness and celebrity possible."

Dumbledore drained his teacup, the pot rising to refill it. "I just want to teach, Miss Payne. I abhor power, responsibility. You know, Dippet was deathly sick a few years ago. I filled in for nearly an entire term. I think it was a ruse of his to take an extended vacation, if I'm being honest. It was a nightmare. Granted, it was an especially turbulent year to be interim Headmaster. I spent my days constantly putting out fires, managing staff, leading meetings, being on top of every little thimble of worry that passes through a parent's mind that of course they have to owl us about. At all hours. Even when the students are safe at home for the holidays." He sighed.

Hermione breathed in, feeling real pity for Dumbledore. It must be strange for him to be confiding so much in some strange student, but she felt so comfortable in his presence. So happy to be seeing Dumbledore once again alive, and more vibrant and fiery than she had ever known him. And so it spilled out, though she wasn't sure if the time was right to tell him. "Look, Professor, when you devised a plan to help us go back in time, you wanted us to focus on the Order. But we have deviated from that initial plan. I'm looking to find Catania Whorl. In my time, her work was completely erased from public record. But I know she's trying to build alliances in the countryside, she has already done revolutionary work, and that she has a small printing press. She's the grandmother of one of my friends, so I have been privy to some of her surviving diaries, newspaper clippings and archives. I think aligning with them, fortifying their cause, that is the answer."

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised near to his hairline. So he didn't hear about Ginny's speech at the last Order meeting. He really must be buried in this work, or distant from them, Hermione thought. "That's a dangerous game to be playing, Hermione. You must exercise extreme caution in engaging with the resistance. Grindelwald is still just on the continent, but he is causing problems here. Tensions are sky high. People are looking for someone to point their finger at if things go south."

Hermione agreed. She was quickly realizing just how tense things were.

Hermione reached into her back and pulled out the small golden hourglass. The tiny black gems inside it gleamed among a silvery mist. She held it by its thick gold chain and handed it over. "Can you hold on to it? As much as I can ward my trunk, this is probably the safest place in the castle."

Dumbledore studied the hourglass, turning it over in his hands. Hermione could sense that he recognized it for what it really was, a token of her trust in him, a hope that he could trust her too. He nodded, slipping it into a drawer in his desk next to the photograph of him and Gellert Grindelwald as young boys.

Hermione finished her tea, taking a moment to marvel at the one plain thing in the office, the white ceramic teacups, useful to easily detect any potions or foreign substances added, the simplicity of it showing that his easygoing life was still wrought with demons, and that he was always alert. She stood up. "Well thank you for meeting with me, professor. If you will now excuse me, I have some errands to run." By errands, she meant, sneaking out of the castle.

"Of course," he replied, "lemon drop?" Hermione took one, as did Dumbledore.

As she opened the door to leave, he called her name. She turned around to face him again. "I may have my misgivings, but I believe in you young people, Hermione. Us old ones are just too jaded sometimes."

:::


	8. Chapter 8: A leaky cauldron

Chapter 8: A leaky cauldron

:::

Ginny sat hunched over the table, her long red hair spilling over her journal as she furiously wrote. It was a stance she had gotten from spending too much time with Harry and Hermione, both of whom put their whole body into their work when they were focused. Despite her sordid history with magical diaries, or perhaps because of it, Ginny obsessively kept her own. It was one of the few reliefs she had. At times, the only friend she could trust. She also supposed it was a much healthier response to stress than several glasses of Firewhiskey, though writing did pair well with one she thought, sipping from a steaming glass.

Reflecting on the past few years was as painful as it was therapeutic. From the golden trio's hunt for horcruxes, dealing with Umbridge and then the Carrows at Hogwarts, the disastrous Battle for Hogwarts where Harry lived, but so did Voldemort. The ensuing war of attrition. She fought for her life every day for the past several years but still walked through the halls of Hogwarts as if she were in a dream. How was it possible to be so alert, skilled at dueling, with her wand drawn before your average person could even blink, yet also somewhat detached from the larger reality unfolding in front of her? She dipped her quill in the pot of ink, relishing the feel of it scratching against the paper, the words vanishing as she filled one page with her messy, cramped writing, and started on the next.

Her grandfather and aunt were just settling in for dinner when they heard a knock at the door. Ginny was up in an instant with her wand in her hands, of course.

Settima waved her away. "There's no need for that, Ginny dear," she said as she shuffled to the door. Settima joked but she could see how her grands cast worried looks at her, how they would make eye contact when she refilled her glass with more libations, or made a particularly crass joke about death or being tortured. She followed Settima to the door, her wand in her pocket but clutched tightly in her hand. She turned to her great aunt, "Don't worry aunty, you're busy with dinner, I'll go check who it is."

She descended the stairs to the first floor and opened the heavy wooden door to see a bushy head of hair on the other end.

"Merlin, Hermione! What are you doing here?" Ginny hugged her friend.

"I just wanted to see you again! In person! I know you've been worrying about me stuck in the castle with the hormonal Voldy. I also wanted to test a few passages and see if they were the same and could lead me out here," she chattered, following Ginny up the steep, winding stairs. "I also just couldn't wait any longer to meet your family. I miss the Weasleys."

Ginny welcomed her inside the apartment. "This is Hermione."

"How do you do, Miss Weasley. Good Godric, it smells lovely in here." Hermione inhaled blissfully.

"Oh, why thank you. That will be the hemlock stew. It's Abernathy, my married name. But you can call me Settima." She said, taking Hermione's cloak.

Ginny and Hermione sat on the couch by the fireplace. "Don't worry," she assured again, "there's no news. This is a purely social visit. I also was wondering if you had time to buy my new cauldron?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Yes," Ginny said, summoning it from behind a couch. "How did you get all those galleons?"

"A generous donor," Hermione winked. Ginny suppressed a smile. While all of her qualms about taking money to serve her ends had vanished sometime around when her dear brother was murdered, she knew her grands would not feel the same way. She spared the kitchen a glance, and saw Settima occupied with preparing dinner.

Ginny levitated the cauldron to the middle of the small coffee table between them, vanishing the box around it. "This thing is a monster. Sturdy, high quality, but won't draw any attention. You won't be able to shrink it to carry it back but a featherweight charm will work."

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Hermione draped herself around the cauldron, hugged it like she would an old friend. Ginny looked at her quizzically.

At that moment Septimus entered the room. "Well, he said, puffing on a small pipe, that's one way to show a cauldron it's appreciated. I daresay Ginny, are your friends as strange as you?" They laughed.

Hermione sat back and raised her eyebrows at the gleaming pot. "I'll look like a turtle lurking back into the castle. I'll have to be extra careful."

Ginny couldn't help but feel strange at how this all seemed like such a normal, domestic evening, as if her and Hermione weren't two ruthless time travelers looking to overthrow the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione sighed. "Potions has been a chore, especially with that first and now second wretched cauldron. Cracked and warped and mean. Slughorn, for all his vices and charms gives a formidable amount of work, I have been desperate for some better gear. On the bright side, he is a much better professor than he was during the nineties."

"So you're enjoying it? Being back in school?" Ginny closed her ink pot and cleaned her quill, playing with the feather as Hermione spoke.

"Far too much, I'm afraid," she replied, sinking into the couch, looking excited and weary all at once. "This is all quite unreal, isn't it?"

Ginny nodded running her hands through her hair. She looked Hermione over. "No limp, no scars, look at you. How did you heal so well?"

"A mountain of potions and an infirmary that is not full of dying patients," Hermione deadpanned. "And you? How's that curse healing?"

Ginny lifted her shirt to expose a neat purple line across her stomach with faint bruising around it. "Settima here is a master at healing potions and salves. Now it only hurts when I eat too much, which is often. They're trying to fatten me up."

Settima looked over from the kitchen, "She's only skin and bones, that's why! Hermione, dear, I hope you're not trying to leave before dinner!"

"I don't want to intrude." Hermione called back, "I know I've come unannounced. I didn't even think you would eat supper so late." Settima waved her off, levitating another place setting to the table in the kitchen.

Ginny lowered her voice, "And how is dear Voldy, or what do they call him? The ice king?"

"I don't know. I'm avoiding. My initial thoughts of getting close to him and his knights, it doesn't seem like a good idea. But really Ginny, it's strange. He just seems so normal."

"Don't be a fool," Ginny said, playing with the engravings on the cauldron.

"I'm not!" Hermione said exasperatedly. "Tom Riddle didn't become Voldemort in a vacuum. Don't you want to know what made him? Just like Harry bloody Potter wasn't born to be some savior of the world?"

"I know it's not just about him, that's why I'm not marching to Hogwarts to Avada Riddle. But you have had what, a handful of conversations with him? He's a master manipulator and you have been through your fair share of difficult projects. Seeing through charm has never been your forte." Hermione glared at her. "Lockhart?"

"Why must you bring that up! Why does everyone always bring that up!"

"Cormac McLaggen."

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "He was an oaf. I knew that from the start."

"That's an understatement."

"It's not my fault men are foul. I'm smart otherwise," she said petulantly. "I would have gotten top marks in my NEWTs," she huffed sprawling out onto the sofa. "If I could have ever taken them."

Ginny sympathized. Everything spiraled downward from the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione was supposed to have graduated by now and taken some prestigious fellowship or maybe apprenticed with a witch somewhere. Instead, she hardly had time to think about it. She hid her bitterness, but Ginny could see that part of her that longed to just be a normal student, though she was dubious if she could be one even if she tried.

"So, did you get one of old Sluggy's coveted invitations?"

Hermione sat up, rummaging through her bag. "Why yes my darling, do you want to be my date?" She whipped out a stiff cream colored piece of parchment and handed it to Ginny who looked at it and stuck her tongue out.

"I'll pass. Maybe the next one." She studied the invitation. "Oh, it's the Friday after your birthday. We should celebrate."

"We will, I'll be over here first thing Saturday. But you're a tosser for not coming with me, what will you do instead? I might need backup!"

"I'll be doing something more fun, like ripping up my bedsheets and putting them back together the muggle way..."

Hermione scoffed. "Is that something you think muggles do? How do you think they do it?"

Ginny stood up to head over to the kitchen table. "I don't know! With those staple contraptions?"

Hermione burst out laughing, following her. "Yes, that is how muggles create all of our garments and textiles."

Ginny shrugged, "You know best." Hermione shoved her playfully.

After they had all sat down and tucked into the delicious meal that Settima prepared, Septimus asked a question that Ginny knew was weighing on him since she had arrived.

He set his fork down. "Girls, what is the magical theory say about changing the timeline? Do you have any idea how your actions might impact say, your loved ones? Your own parents?"

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other. Hermione also put her fork down, clasping her hands together as she gathered her thoughts. "There are no clear records of what we are doing, only myths and stories, mostly from the centaurs. They are secretive about them. If it wasn't for the impending collapse of the magical world, the alliance that made this journey possible would not have existed at all. And if you have had any experience with centaurs, you know they aren't ones to spell things out. We are figuring it out day by day. As for the timeline, I'm not sure we can preserve the good things if we are looking to change the bad."

Septimus looked between the two girls. "We have to be careful we don't ruin too much, right girls? Aren't you a little worried at all?"

Ginny drummed her fingers on the table. "I came here, we came here, with the understanding that we'll probably never go back. It's a hard potion to swallow, but we didn't have a choice." Hermione nodded in agreement, tears springing to her eyes.

Ginny tried to keep her voice calm as she continued, and avoided the pitying look her grands were giving her. "I agree that I don't want to stop my father from being born, or something like that. I mean, that's the sacrifice we made...There are ways to try and preserve certain parts, family lines, and to delay events, like natural disasters, but they are too risky. This isn't about our group of friends, our circle, our community. This is about the end of the wizarding world. If we had carried on as we did, we would have been wiped out. After the Battle of Hogwarts...a major battle, in the castle itself, the other side's support exploded. Small, fringe groups from around the continent started banding together, named themselves his followers. Things got worse every day. It was strange, you think things have reached some kind of peak but then you listen to the news the next morning to find you have reach new heights."

"There's no going back to that future, only forward through this one." Hermione added, crying now, Settima put her hand over hers. "Even if I could, I don't know if I would try to return to the life I left. That world can go to hell. I want it to burn." She said forcefully.

Ginny agreed, let it burn.

:::

"Friends, fellow leaders of the dark Knights of Walpurgis, I have a serious inquiry," Malfoy said, peering over a leather bound book. His quill was perched above the page, no doubt he was taking notes directly on the expensive text.

Tom sitting across from him, his legs crossed, reading a novel, rolled his eyes. "Inquire away." Nott, seated next to him, did not look up from his potions text and parchment, already filled with at least nine inches of text.

"If we three were Les Trois Mousquetaires, who would each of us be?" He lowered his book onto his lap, exposing the page defaced with his loopy script.

Tom blinked. "I suppose I would be the one to sink my sword into your liver."

Malfoy continued nonplussed. "My dear Riddle, you are the brains, I am the beauty, and Nott..." He stroked his chin, "You are the brooding, quiet one that has never recovered from your first love."

"Abraxas, gotten into the elf wine early tonight, have you?" said Nott, focusing still on his essay.

Think about it! We are the most influential trio Hogwarts has seen in a generation, possibly in all time. I see many parallels between this other trio. Tom, your struggle between your search for greatness, and your love of baser pleasures has defined your boyhood. Me, I am the charismatic and approachable one looking to break away from my family's shadow. Nott, you are mysterious and melancholy, drowning your broken heart in -

"Alright, alright," Nott grumbled, shoving his essay aside. "Leave my wounded pride out of this. That was sixth year. I'm a dashing seventh year now," he said, sitting up straighter and conjuring three glasses and a bottle of Firewhisky. "Barely two weeks into term and the women of Hogwarts are tripping over themselves to have my hand in marriage."

Tom smiled, put his book down and allowed Nott to pour him a drink. "Another flaw Malfoy, I think very few people outside of our group of confidence would consider us approachable."

"I seem to see you being approached by annoying first years every day with their insignificant problems. And what about that Payne girl?"

Tom sipped his drink. "Unfortunately, my Head Boy duties confuse the students, a burden I must bear, for the benefits far outweigh it. As for Hermione, I might be interested. It is a new year after all. Time to explore the new blood." Nott raised his glass to that. Tom eyed Malfoy. "Speaking of new pursuits, I saw that you and Lystra Alsaesser have partnered for defense. Have you finally given in to your urges?"

"I would never touch that filthy half blood," he spat, eyes darkening.

"Now, now, Abraxas, you are among friends here. Tell us how you really feel. Your past actions have said otherwise about your tastes. Besides, you were practically drooling over her during the first day of potions."

Nott joined the heckling. "I heard Jones just broke up with her. She said she's sick of quidditch players though." Malfoy glared into the fire, good mood gone, his drink glowing in the flickering light. They were the only three souls awake so late in the Slytherin common room.

Tom downed his drink and stood up. "Enough banter you two. Time to head to the forest."

:::

Familiarity with his fellow Knights was what he struggled with most lately. He was getting ready to leave his youth, become an adult who was revered beyond any other. The Knights were supposed to help elevate him to that status, but more often than not, they complicated it. The group of boys, thirty or so at any given meeting, mostly from Slytherin, mostly from pureblood families, were loyal to a fault, not very trustworthy in executing tasks, but all sure in their superiority over their peers.

He had tried to build a following but he had accidentally built a form of camaraderie despite his every effort to quash it. He didn't want to be their friend, or even their ally. He sought to be served. But that did not come easily to the privileged ranks of the Knights of Walpurgis. No matter how he tried, their participation in this group made them see him as a friend. Almost.

He was the true leader, but Nott and Malfoy joined him as the three heads, each respected and to an extent, feared, by the other boys. Him the most, of course. Malfoy's summary of their complementary natures, thought it grated on his nerves to be compared to some fairy tale trio, was not that far off. Nott was the discrete one, the one that was quiet, who seemed formidable but had most of Slytherin in his confidence. Malfoy was approachable, the charmer, but a snake if Tom had ever seen one, someone who could smooth over his cutting words with a warm smile. And finally Tom, the one spearheading their cause, searching for the wind that would carry them to power and greatness that no one had ever seen, had ever imagined.

He trusted Abraxas Malfoy and Percival Nott above all others, not just for their commanding presence and influence with the other students, but their cunning and intelligence. They would be formidable allies as they grew older. They were also the least likely to embarrass him.

In a circle around a fire, they gathered like most nights, far enough into the Forbidden Forest not to be seen from the castle and close enough to the edge not to frighten his followers who, despite their often cruel temperaments, were cowards when it came to the forest and its inhabitants. As Malfoy led the meeting, Tom spied a ripple at the edge of the clearing, as if someone were disillusioned there. He sighed. He knew someone was there watching them just as they had the first night back in their term when he felt someone trip his boundaries. He used to heavily ward and hide their meetings, but he soon discovered through a few close encounters that such powerful magic drew more attention than it deflected. And it was better to hide in plain site, after all. If anyone came, he could alert his Knights to the problem right away and either skillfully shift the conversation, or send someone to investigate and neutralize the intruder. He suspected it was Hermione again. The ward told him enough, a witch, medium height and slight frame, approaching from south of the gathering at the edge of the woods.

He interrupted Malfoy. "Excuse me, I suddenly have to go relieve myself." He turned to approach the edge of the clearing.

Mulciber's voice carried across the circle. "Please cast a silencio, My Lord, I already heard enough farting tonight from Goyle over here. I think he indulged too much in the cabbage stew."

Tom with his back already turned to his followers could not help but cringe. Oh, the indignity of recruiting teenage boys as his followers. He could hear them all laughing raucously.

He had known them for six long years already, and could not help some of the liberties they took with him. As much as he reminded them that he was not their brother, and as much as he kept to himself, threatened them, docked points, ignored their jokes, they knew him too well. It's impossible to take someone seriously when you have known one another since you were eleven years old.

Opening the Chamber of Secrets, killing the Warren girl, that had earned him their respect and fear. Though he had not meant to do it, she had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time, they didn't know that. When they were out of Hogwarts and he could torture them with impunity, the would look up to him then. If needed, he would even leave to immerse himself in the dark arts and return with a new identity, after everyone had forgotten about the kind, approachable Tom Riddle. For now, Hogwarts kept them safer than they knew. It would do little good to have his 'friends' cowering in fear from him in the corridors.

Aside from their familiarity with him, many of them already knew each other since birth, a fact he bitterly recalled, being one of the few new Slytherins who was not already close friends with the others. He had scraped his way to the very top anyways. Still, against his will, had also allowed them to feign some kind of familiarity with him.

As many guffaws as they spared, they knew nothing of his life, his past, his upbringing, and they would never understand. He always felt quite alone. An air of superiority and aloofness was all he could manage to hide his ignorance about their customs, histories, the ease with which the rest of them accepted high society, the comforts of wealth, the adoration of their families.

When he got approached the edge of the clearing, past where the light shone, there was no one around. He could feel her presence, and weighed his next move carefully. He didn't want to alienate the girl just yet. He grabbed onto two nearby trees and leaned forward. "I hope you are enjoying the show." He said quietly. "I must inform you, if I catch you around here again, you should be prepared to entertain us, as do all of our esteemed guests." He listened for a second, and heard very quiet breathing to his right.

Then he smiled, "Now excuse me, I really do need to relieve myself." He approached a tree, unzipping his pants. He heard a gasp and a twig snap. Closer, much closer than he thought. He shot his hand out and caught the scruff of a robe. Quick as he pulled the person forward he removed the disillusionment spell to reveal exactly the curly haired witch he was hoping for, wide eyed and lovely, gasping in his clutches.

"Hello Hermione," he said, dragging her closer to him, "if you wanted my company you just had to ask."

"Riddle!" She exclaimed, struggling to pull his hands off of her, and finally pushing at him. "Let me go!"

He acquiesced immediately, causing her to stumble back. They both said nothing, and just looked at each other. He took her appearance in, her hair was wild around her, and her cheeks looked flushed, as if she had been running. She had on her regular backpack, with what seemed like a cauldron peeking out of the top. It made her look quite ridiculous.

"Is there something you wanted? Did you come here prepared to brew something for us?" he said, taking a step closer as she took a step back. She opened her mouth to respond but Riddle didn't give her a chance. "If you say you just stumbled upon this meeting, I'll have to dock 50 points for being out after curfew without permission." Hermione closed her mouth. He smiled. "Perhaps sneaking into Hogsmeade to see your little friend? How much of a burden must you place on your fellow transfer students? They are all walking such a fine line, struggling to fit in, and yet you just seem to brew trouble in your every waking hour."

Hermione just looked at him, eyes flashing.

"It's fine, don't tell me anything. I don't need to know. However," he continued, "if you had come here to see me, I suppose I could pardon that. But only if you agree to accompany me to Hogsmeade one weekend? I'll take your silence as a yes."

"Why do you even care," she sputtered.

"Because you're so shiny and new," he said sarcastically. "Well, I suppose I don't know why you are sneaking out of the castle so often, and I know this isn't the first time you have spied on our meetings. And though you claim to have nothing to do with Grindelwald, you sure act suspicious for someone with nothing to hide."

Hermione backed away slowly. "I'll see you in class tomorrow," he said, watching her as she turned around and disappeared into the darkness.

:::


	9. Chapter 9: Fireberries

Chapter 9: Fireberries

**Ok, I have posted three chapters in a row, but I probably won't keep up this pace. But who knows. The world is weird right now and this is a great escape. Here's another one!**

:::

Riddle. She felt his presence before she saw him. She looked up and glared at him. "Hi Hermione," He mouthed and kept walking to the Slytherin table.

Hermione played with her food. She had woken up to see she had landed herself a detention for being out of her room after curfew. At least no house points were docked, the detention alone would keep her under the radar. A strange mercy from Riddle. She didn't know what he was playing at.

McGonnagall peered sideways at Hermione. "Still being nice to you? Quite the flirt that one. Did you put out yet? Riddle doesn't strike me as the type to play with his food before he eats it."

Hermione glared at her. "I don't know. Despite your analysis, I've seen him be nice to a lot of people."

"No. Extra no. I've known him a long time and, while he's not exactly my enemy, we don't like each other. We're only friendly because it makes things easier. And that's how he is with the entire student body and professors in Hogwarts. Trust me, Hermione, he isn't so friendly with anyone just because."

"He asked me, well, kind of demanded, that I go to Hogsmeade with him."

Minny's eyebrows shot to her hairline. She cackled. Hermione looked at her worriedly. "There you go, now you can get in and out before it's too late."

Hermione groaned. "Im not interested in a relationship with him."

"Oh dear, it wouldn't quite be a relationship." Hermione stuck her tongue out at her. She continued, "He used to have a girlfriend. I know. If you could get some dirt from her. In fact, she's probably one of the few Slytherins who would speak to you at all, you muddy fool."

Hermione grimaced. She wanted to stop thinking about Tom. She wasn't sure why Minerva was pressing this issue. She continued to pick at her food listlessly.

Minny softened. She squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "Look, I know how it goes, you're a smart girl Hermione, but it's a pattern with friends. Not just in regards to Tom. It's also kind of a Gryffindor plus Slytherin thing, chasing the forbidden dragon fruit. You spend months pining over each other, and then one night, maybe one week of fun, the society is in an uproar, the tabloids rejoice, you realize don't like each other and are completely incompatible. Then you spend months crying and getting over him, meanwhile he's sleeping with every woman who will smile at him. Then it's summertime and we can repeat the drama next year, except this is my last damned year at Hogwarts and I'm over it," she said, stabbing her food with each syllable." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. Minny continued. "I like you Hermione. I don't want to waste a year on this doomed love slash lust story."

Hermione looked at her, confused.

Minny sighed and patted her on the back. "Don't worry too much. Focus on your next class."

:::

He fell into stride with her as she was making her way to Herbology, a class she knew they shared.

"There you are, my sneaky friend and the girl who wants to kill the outliers."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's all you got from our discussion."

"A lot of what you're saying, if I read between the lines, is that it's all just for the greater good, no?"

"That phrase has been abused." Hermione snuck a glance at Tom. His haughty expression made her blood boil. He was picking a fight. Already, he knew how to make her angry but she wouldn't slip up. She kept her head down as she marched out the front doors of the castle walking as fast as she could. He strolled effortlessly beside her, his hands in his pockets.

"Aha. You're an acolyte, Hermione. I knew it," he said, watching her face as they walked. Hermione kept her expression blank. He continued, "He would most definitely collect you." Hermione startled at his words, but tried to hide her reaction. Tom smirked triumphantly. "A witch with more than creative dueling skills. A knack for using nature to her advantage."

Gritting her teeth, Hermione tried clear her head. It wasn't Grindelwald she was afraid of, there was another dark wizard who liked to collect things, and she could see him from the corner of her eye. "Don't pretend to know me from spying on one duel, Riddle. A duel that you did nothing to help me with, might I add."

Tom laughed. "I just don't see how you could not love his ideas. If they had come to fruition earlier on, you would have been immersed in magic from the day of your birth! Wouldn't that have been nice, growing up with a wizarding family? I'm sure you loved your pathetic muggle parents, but how much have you really seen them since you began Hogwarts? How much do you expect to see them once you are fully integrated into the Wizarding world? How much can they protect and advise you in your life now? What have you had to lie about, scheme about, to keep those pathetic sacs safe?"

"Shut up!" Hermione yelled, clutching her books to her chest, feeling the burn of tears threatening to surface, her fists clenched so tightly she could feel her nails threatening to break the skin of her palms. "Don't you dare talk about my parents, you know nothing about them."

Tom continued, smiling ferally. "I say, there's something to his ideas. Of course, I would go about things differently. I don't want to peacefully live amongst the muggles, benignly ruling over them. They should be our slaves. Nonmagical beings are not equal to us."

"House elves are magical creatures. And we also treat them horribly." Tom opened his mouth to reply, surely something else to infuriate her. She held her hand out. "Please, Riddle. Why the torture so early in the morning. Don't you ever discuss lighter subjects? Such as the end of the world? Or poisonous mushrooms?" He looked at her quizzically. Did he really consider this light banter? "Nevermind,"

After some thought, despite trying not to, Hermione couldn't help but bother him with some questions of her own. "You never answered me, the other night. Would you hex someone because they're muggleborn?"

"No." He said matter of factly.

"And where did those students learn those spells? They were aiming to kill, I highly doubt your average seventeen year old would be so reckless."

Tom smiled. "We have a dueling club, a private one. You are invited of course. No set schedule," He leaned closer, "just whenever thy Lord calls." Hermione pushed him away.

"I thought they weren't your friends."

"They're not. More like...minions. Or potential minions."

"Minions? You're foul, you know that?"

"After all your talk about recruitment, you're just mad you didn't think of it first."

"I know all about dueling clubs. I would call them friends, or at least acquaintances. I don't have any minions."

"Friends," he said, tasting the word. "I've known you for hardly any time at all but I'm sure more than one person you called a friend put you on a pedestal that made that relationship more than a little difficult. More like worship, probably. And if you did organize a little dueling club, what did you make them do? Practice the Imperius curse?"

"I would never. What are you implying?" They had arrived at the greenhouses, but instead of turning left to the entrance of the seventh year class, and Tom pulled her into the shadowy space between two of the glass structures, casting a silencing charm as he did.

"I'm just implying that I can't imagine a better recruit than a brilliant little mudblood witch. You know all about switching sides, don't you?"

"No!" Hermione panicked, she reached in her pocket for her wand but Riddle stilled her hand, shaking his head.

"What I don't understand," he breathed, staring her down, "is how someone could endure the torture you have obviously undergone and get a darling little scar like this," he gripped her arm painfully, "and just walk away."

Hermione glared back at him. "I didn't walk away from anything."

"No, Hermione. No, you didn't," he smiled, "I saw you apparate or portkey or whatever you want to call it, into Dippet's office. You were within an inch of your life. What I'm trying to understand is if you were running away from his army or from his opposition."

"Tom, I have nothing to do with Grindelwald."

"And that little stunt last night –"

"I stumbled upon your group, I admit. But i don't care about what vile work you are up to. I'm not here to spy on you, you egotistical –"

"Then why are you here? Where did your little redheaded friend go? Why do you spend so much time with Dumbledore? I have so many questions Hermione. And not even a ghost of an answer."

Hermione stuttered.

"Enough. I don't care to hear any more lies right now." He let her go, straightening her cloak and dusting his own off. "And for your information, I could give fuck all about your blood status. All I want, is power. And think, Hermione. Who, right now, has all of that power? I want audience with Grindelwald. Make yourself useful or I'll have reason to report your stunts to the board of governors. They need little cause to expel yet another troublemaking refugee."

He stepped out of the space between the two greenhouses, and Hermione heard a group of girls burst into giggles. She groaned, wondering if she should wait a few minutes, but that would make it look all the more suspicious if she was caught anyways. She followed behind Riddle, spotting none other than Peumona, Audrey, and Minny, along with a few other Gryffindors. She felt her cheeks redden and cursed herself. She was making herself look ever more guilty.

Minerva theatrically dropped her backpack, spilling its contents across the grass. "Clumsy fool I am! Go on girls, Hermione will help me," she said, waving them off with her still healing claw of a hand. Peumona and Audrey lingered until Minny sent them a glare. She shook her head. "The harpies. Apologies Hermione, but this will be all over the school by dinner tonight."

Hermione nodded, slowly gathering the books and quills into her friend's bag without magic, allowing the distance between the others to increase. Looking up, she made eye contact with McGonnagall, who waggled her eyebrows. Hermione frowned. "It wasn't what you think."

"I think it looked like what Riddle wanted it to though. Like I said, get it over with." She slung her backpack over her shoulders, and they continued on to class.

Scanning the greenhouse, Hermione spied Malfoy and Nott sitting together. The third in the trio was alone at the front. The other empty seat was nearby, next to Wood. Hermione and Minerva made eye contact.

"Please," Hermione started. Minerva hissed something causing Hermione's feet to feel like they had 100 pounds added to them, and shot off toward Wood. Hermione couldn't even hide her shock, her mouth hanging open at the betrayal. Minerva winked at her from across the room and turned around to chat with her new partner for the rest of the year.

Hermione knew the spell, and the best cure was just to walk it off. And so she trudged slowly, with as much dignity as she could muster to sit next to the one person she didn't want to see, muttering about how someone got sorted into the wrong house.

"Hello Miss Payne." Tom said, turning to her and taking in her awkward movements.

"Leaden legs jinx? Or is dressing and acting like a turtle in fashion in Paris?"

"Yes," she harrumphed, not bothering to address his second comment, dropping into the chair.

"Be careful, those seats are supposed to last the whole year, at least." False bewilderment colored his face.

For the second time in class Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?" She could hear the Slytherins around her snickering with glee. She was surrounded by them she realized.

"I'm quite shocked you weren't able to counter it. But ah, the betrayal does always catch you by surprise when it comes from those closest to you." He smiled at her, his eyes showing a warmth that contrasted sharply with his words.

She put her head in her hands, surrendering to the day. It was barely a few minutes after breakfast. Tom patted her back, surely to annoy her more, but to any onlooker it would appear as a romantic gesture. Oh, she wanted to strangle him.

The class assignment led them outdoors, spread across the lawns to search out a kind of ground berry that was needed for an upcoming assignment. Her and Tom found a patch in a in a clearing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a place where she had found herself far too often these days. Hermione carefully donned her dragon hide gloves, gently holding the fireberries and carefully clipping the stems to place them in her basket.

Tom looked at her oddly. "Why are you doing that."

"So I don't get hurt," she said matter of factly, sparing him a cursory glance before returning to focus on her work.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Miss Payne, surely you know that though they burn through all kinds of materials," he roughly yanked one up, pulling the stem of the berry and its root with it, "they do not harm the skin of a sentient being." He plucked the red fruit with his bare fingers. It sparked and began to burn in his hands, he popped it into his mouth, wiggling his unmarred, slender fingers. "They are quite tart. Nutritious too. Good for when you have to study for an important exam. Quite like an amphetamine if you eat too much. Though fermented, they give an entirely different effect."

Hermione looked at him incredulously. She had brewed with fireberries many times and they were highly dangerous to handle and poisonous to eat.

"Care to try one?"

Hermione sat back on the ground, clutching her cippers and the basket handle and continued to look at him dumbfounded.

He plucked a berry from their basket, the one he was contributing nothing to, and joined her on the grass, his legs splayed in front of him. "Fun fact. There is a strain that exists in Romania, in the deepest, darkest parts of its largest forest, Beusnita, that is much more caustic. Quite difficult to find, but even if you could find it, It's banned from being imported. Highly invasive, it is. There are fears that it might wipe the British strain out. Pity though, it's much more effective in potions." He brought a berry closer to her. "The real problem is, they look nearly identical to our varieties, except," and he bent down to pick one with a long stem attached, "you can tell the difference by a single black thorn at the bottom of each plant. Quite tricky to sparse out, and then I suppose you could just cut the thorn off and no one would even know. There are plenty on this wretched plant."

Hermione looked from the plant to him in shock, the gears in her head whirring. Could he have been the one to bring this back from Romania later in his life? Tom continued to pick fireberries from the ground and eat them nonchalantly though Hermione could tell he was eyeing her as he did. She was frowning at him openly, wondering if he was playing some trick on her, perhaps a slight of the hand, skin colored gloves. Tom Riddle, tall slender frame with an honest, open face. He was a perfect trickster, how could you look into his innocent blue eyes, his strong brow, his neatly parted black hair, and doubt his character?

She stared for a few minutes at the berries in her basket.

"I suppose you've never been to Eastern Europe, have you? I think this strain might have spread on the continent, maybe even as far west as...Germany?"

Hermione glared at him. "Oh, sod off. Haven't you annoyed me enough for one day?"

He grinned. He was actually having fun with this. "Try one," he said lightly.

Hermione dropped her clippers and played with the grass. "I can't get you audience with Grindelwald, because I am not working for him."

"Oh Hermione, what will I do with you. You are such a bad liar."

"Maybe you're right, I don't walk away from things. But I left what I left in France behind. I'm considering this a new chapter."

"Just try one," he said, ignoring her last comment. "I promise, on the graves of my ancestors, it's not poison." He took a berry and bit it in half, the red skin staining his mouth. It should have burned his face clear off. He extended the other half to Hermione. "Don't you trust me?"

"No." She looked at the berry in his hands.

"Oh, I'm hurt. I thought we had something special." He brought his hands toward her face as if he was going to feed her. She reeled back from the flame of the berry, looking at him questioningly. He smirked, glad to be facing her ire once again. "Don't be shy now, it's not the Gryffindor way." He opened his palm and offered the fruit.

Overcome with curiosity, she removed one glove and took the berry from his hands, studying it in her palm, its juices bleeding onto her skin, sizzling there but leaving her unharmed. Against her better judgment, she raised it to her mouth and ate it. She felt a burn, not unpleasant, flow down her throat and into her belly. A bubbly sensation then went immediately to her head. Tom held her shoulder, steadying her. She wasn't sure if she looked like she was going to faint. "Wow, it's like a drug," she exhaled.

"Yes, now imagine what Firewhisky tastes like." Tom said, eating what must have been his tenth fireberry, but seeming unaffected by it.

"I've had - " Hermione stopped herself, feeling shock once again. In her time, Firewhisky was made from spiced grasses and grains from the north. Could this have been a blend of some sort before the new berry overtook their country? "I think I've had Firewhisky."

"That look of surprise tells me you haven't."

She thought of Ginny's nightcaps. Whatever blend existed in the future, it must be much less heady than this version. She had to warn her.

"Don't worry. Next hogsmeade trip, how about I invite you for a drink. Give you your first taste of it."

Hermione smiled, squinting at him as wind shifted the trees and sun hit her eyes. "Am I supposed to believe you're asking me out on an innocent date?"

"Am I supposed to believe you're just here to read some books and tour Hogsmeade with the girls?" He scoffed. "With dueling skills like that? With the scars of dark magic on you when you arrived? After you yourself admitted to me you read dark texts to be prepared?"

"You've really got me swooning here." She sighed, putting her glove back on and resuming her work of clipping fireberries. "Ok. That's smart, Riddle. Well, help me out then. What's going on in Diagon Alley and the Wizengamot right now? What politics do you think I'd be interested in?"

"Nothing much. Run of the mill Ministry corruption and some fringe opposition trying to make us all be friends and rubbish."

"What fringe opposition do you even know about?" She said, looking up at him from her work. He lazily plucked a berry and tossed it in the basket.

"The order. That's probably the only one."

Hermione sucked in her breath. Hearing him say their name scared her even though she knew they were not a secret society in this time. "What do you think of them?"

"A bunch of boring old people who talk too much and get little done." He frowned.

Hermione clenched her clippers. "They're not, they're fighting for better working conditions for wizards and other magical creatures, for a fairer wizarding world. It benefits us all."

He scoffed. "Humans are by nature cruel, Hermione. A fairer world? Fair according to who? Fair to a goblin is not fair to an elf. Fair to a pureblood is not fair to anyone else."

Hermione didn't respond. She sat back again and picked at the grass. She wouldn't eat another berry. Riddle, as if reading her mind, plucked another from her basket. "Hey, save some for our class!"

He frowned at her, though it was more like a pout. His mouth was stained slightly red. Hermione laughed. For a flash of a moment, he looked like a child who was denied some candy before it disappeared and his expression was once again cool and collected.

"Whatever. I don't care what you think about them. It's not the order I'm interested in anyways."

"Then who." he demanded, looking at her hungrily.

"Don't worry about it, Riddle. Why do you care about people who want to help goblins and house elves," she looked at him, "and muggleborns she added."

"I do suppose that sounds like boring thankless work."

"Yes," Hermione laughed. "No glory at all. Not as adventurous as I'm sure you would like. I'm sure you would much prefer playing dress up at stuffy parties with your friends, what were their names? Malfoy and...Nott?"

Tom's eyes flashed. "You would be so lucky to be invited to one of those soirees. I'm sure they would be happy to entertain Hogwart's most famous new mudblood and her friend. But I do worry about your idea of fun, Hermione. Two French refugees, running from war, wandering around talking to strangers trying to change British wizarding society. That'll go over well with the locals. You'll be on the run again before you can say international portkey."

Hermione didn't say anything, she looked across the field to where Hagrid's hut was. They were on the edge of the forest, slightly hidden by the trees and shadows. He was tending to the loping bakaris, hauling buckets of water and food, giving them a loving pat here and there. He looked so young. Still burly, same shock of black curly hair.

"I suppose I'll believe in your little story for now, or at least think it over. If only because I'm a little influenced by the fireberries and don't feel like being angry with you. But I have to warn you, You might think you're on home turf because you like books, can charm the professors and you've made a few friends but Hermione, you might be able to speak English with the right accent, but this isn't your world. You don't know how tense things are. You have no idea what you have walked into."

Hermione looked over at a very teenage Hagrid, tending to the small herd, looking at their black wool made Hermione feel hot. He was right. He had no idea how much.

"Who is that student over there? I haven't seen him around the castle."

Tom eyed her carefully. "Hm, are you interested? I could put in a could word. Tom dusted himself off. In fact, how about I introduce you now?"

"No." Hermione practically shouted. The last person she needed to introduce her to Hagrid was the one who had gotten him expelled from Hogwarts. "That's fine. I'll introduce myself later. I think we should get back to class. She stood up with a huff, grabbed her tools and the basket, and marched off toward the greenhouse.

:::


	10. Chapter 10 Day of Discoveries

Chapter 10 Day of Discoveries

Ginny had a feeling she was going to miss another fire-call that she had planned with Hermione. She felt guilty, but really, it was Alphard/Fareed who was to blame. The git forced her to wake up so early that it was still dark outside and meet him below her family's apartment. He wanted to take her via side-along apparition to London, but she refused. She could tell he was frustrated by this, she had probably convinced him that she was wholly taken by the infamous Black charm. That is, until moments like these where she showed that she had not even the tiniest bit of trust in him. She wanted to tell him not to worry, that she hardly trusted her own grandfather, but he didn't need to know that.

Ginny had long wanted to learn legillimency, it would make things so much easier. It was a confusing situation. She partly felt grateful for Alphard's presence. He already proved a useful and amusing companion on planning her research and tours, he promised a wealth of contacts, and was not too hard on the eyes despite his ridiculous disguise. They had a similar mission, why not be allies? However the other part of her just wanted to scour his mind for the information she needed and be done with him. She was wary of getting attached to anyone, especially another male in the Black family line. She had practiced legillimency with Harry several times, but they were both always so exhausted from the war that it was a lost cause. She didn't have the will or the focus and as the likelihood of her and Hermione leaving with the time turner grew, she distanced herself from the Boy Who Lived. A soul crushingly painful task, but best for both of them in the end. If Harry would exist at all in the future, she would be a grandmother by the time they met again.

With the cloud of her past and future hanging over her, she absently took in the details of the quiet Hogsmeade street as Alphard described the location Ginny was to apparate into. Her war time training was impeccable even at her groggiest. She was always alert, surveying the area for escapes, points of possible attack, and other miscellaneous details that she catalogued automatically. For all of Alphard's precautions, he was a horrible spy, double agent, whatever he deemed himself, she thought, scanning his tense and shifty form. Though if she had his family, she would probably be just as much of a bundle of nerves. She herself felt relaxed, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her slight figure and brilliant hair hidden in the shadows of her black hooded cloak.

They were to travel to a park in Muggle London, she knew it quite well. She arrived at the same time as Alphard though they apparated separately. While he had landed discreetly between a high hedge and a tree, she had ended up in the middle of the park's grassy clearing.

"You're lucky it's so early," Alphard whispered, looking around frantically as he made his way over to her, "You could get arrested for doing magic in plain sight of Muggles, like that."

"Oh sod off, you're so paranoid," she replied, turning on her heel towards their destination. Alphard hurried behind her.

They were going to see an action by the Striklanders, Catarina's group of mischief makers. Alphard didn't tell her many details, instead insisting that experiencing it in person would be better than any explanation he could give. It grated on Ginny's nerves that he was putting her in an unknown situation, but her curiosity got the best of her. They walked the short distance to Grosvenor Square, a place that she remembered was also the location of the American wizarding embassy, the letters on the square's main building spelling out MACUSA, though it was only visible to magical beings.

When they arrived, they stopped in front of a statue in the center. Ginny frowned.

"This is what I've been dragged across the country for? Some sleepy Muggle sight seeing? Or are you going to try to deport me to America?"

Alphard smiled conspiratorially, "But my dear, do you not know to seek out the details in the scene."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. She wondered if Alphard's twitchy demeanor was all an act. She looked around again, and nearly shrieked. The statue in front of them was of an old man sitting on a horse, all in blackened bronze except for his eyes, which were human, and looking at the pair of them.

"State your business." it bellowed.

"Hello sir. We're here for the auction."

"12 sickles, 3 nuts for the lot of you." He grumbled and became fully bronze again.

Alphard dropped the fare into the stone base of the statue and their tickets appeared in his hands. Ginny took hers and when she looked up she could see the large dome of a ward encompassing the square. When her and Alphard slipped through, they saw on the other side that the square was filled with wizards, clamoring and chattering, all looking towards a platform where a large group of house elves were shivering in fright. Ginny didn't dare test the ward as they entered, but she could only guess, Muggle repelling charms, silencing spells, anti-apparition.

"You did not seriously bring me to an auction for house elves." she hissed, "Look at the poor creatures. They look terrified." Ginny would need to make sure she never brought Hermione along for one of Alphard's little experiences.

"Don't worry darling, once they're bonded they'll be merry and won't scare the children or poor Aunt Margot." He replied loudly. He looked at her in warn as they made their way across the square to a far corner.

Ginny glared at him. "Your charades are sickening." she whispered and added louder, "And poor me, having to pawn my precious wedding ring to get a bit of help at home." She pretended to sniffle. Alphard frowned in an exaggerated fashion, and opened his mouth to say more before Ginny shushed him, "I'm not sure your theatrics are helping, Fareed." He nodded, surveying the crowd as they passed through.

They waited over an hour for the auction to begin, the square becoming more crowded as the time passed. Once the bidding started, the crowd used their wands to shoot their bidding numbers into the air. It looked like fireworks sparking above each wizard's head. Ginny was shocked to see the tiny creatures. She had never seen an unbonded house elf before. She was sure most wizards and witches hadn't. On their faces was written grief and rage that she had not seen on one before. Of course Dobby was the only emancipated house elf she knew, but he was an anomaly in that he had been bonded and was then freed. She didn't know enough about blood bonds to understand it. She realized there was so much she didn't know about house elves in general. After the third house elf arrived on the auction block, she felt Alphard grip her hand. She wasn't sure what was happening that made him tense. She scanned the square. From their vantage point they could see the whole thing. She realized the mist was getting thicker, clouding her view of the platform. It was a kind of fog rolling in, surrounding them all. As quickly as she noticed it, it became completely white, encompassing them like a wave crashing in. There were complaints and warnings yelled throughout the crowd, and then a boom that blasted everyone off of their feet. She heard screams coming from behind her and realized the ward had been broken, and suddenly hundreds of wizards were visible to the now bustling London square.

She moved to pull out her wand and Alphard stopped her, shaking his head and dragging her along as he began to run, like many others, away from the square. Many wizards were apparating, as Ginny wanted to do as well, but Alphard was smart to stop it. If they got called in to the Ministry for using magic in front of muggles it would call into question their connection to whatever it was that just happened. They ran down two blocks, hearing more explosions behind them, found an alley way and before she could protest, he apparated them both to a forest, somewhere high up in the mountains.

"What was that?!" She shrieked. He didn't say anything and started furiously casting about. She realized he was making sure they weren't followed. And once again before she could protest he grabbed her arm and apparated them to another location. He did this three more times before collapsing into the grass at their last stop. Ginny looked around, she could see Hogsmeade through the trees. They were in a wooded area close to her apartment. "What was that," she repeated.

"Just read the newspapers tomorrow. They'll explain it better than I." He said breathlessly. He heaved himself up and dusted himself off. "Well, I have worked up quite the appetite, fancy some breakfast?"

He started to walk towards Hogsmeade but Ginny stopped him. "Explain to me what I just witnessed. "

"The Striklanders freed 20 house elves up for bondage. What did you think?"

"There were so many explosions it seemed like they just wanted to kill everyone there. Don't you think The Daily Prophet will characterize it as such? And using explosives at a time like this with war on the continent and the threat of Grindelwald! It's horrid."

"I truly hope the Prophet is not the only publication you subscribe to. If so, I'll need to remedy that." He smiled, his polyjuice had completely faded somewhere between their third and fourth apparition. Ginny decided not to remind him to top up.

She bit her lip, thinking. "I need to meet these people. that was bloody brilliant. Take me, I want to see the freed house elves and talk to them."

"No. That's an easy way to get cursed." He said, kicking dirt and peering at her through his long hair.

"But Fareed!" she whined, "Don't you know them? You great god of useful connections." Ginny smirked at him and Alphard blushed.

"I know them, you don't. We do things the right way. We meet with the organizers first. They would have my head if they even knew I'd brought you there today. But I wanted you to see that what we are dealing with is not your run of the mill Order of the Phoenix."

No matter how much Ginny insisted throughout breakfast, he wouldn't take her. Later that evening at an Order meeting, they announce that they were housing 20 new elves who turned up at a safehouse that morning. Ginny smiled to herself. The Order would probably not condone such actions if they knew they were calculated, especially not during peace time, but they couldn't deny, they were effective.

Detention with KZ

Hermione didn't expect to be in detention alone, but was surprised to see that the other person in attendance was the girl that Minnie had pointed out to her the previous day as Riddle's ex-girlfriend. They stood in a cavernous storeroom, somewhere deep in the dungeons, and surveyed each other as they waited for Potus to arrive. A third girl, a black-haired Ravenclaw, sat far away from the two, doodling in a small journal.

She was in many of Hermione's classes, including potions, though she didn't have a speck of the painful bubotuber pus wounds on her; was near Hermione's height, with thick curly blonde hair that fell down her back. Under her robes she was wearing a Slytherin green skirt that was a touch too short, black snakeskin flats, and a heavy gold bracelet on her left arm which she fidgeted with as they waited. The two girls startled as they heard the large wooden doors thunder open. Potus, the sour faced caretaker, entered the room and stalked over to the girls to collect their wands, mumbling something incomprehensible as he turned on his heel and swiftly left.

"...Is he coming back?" Hermione said, her hand shoving into her pocket, feeling insecure without her wand.

"He said clean up the mess in this pixie's nest of a storeroom," the Ravenclaw yelled from across the room without looking up from her drawing or making any moves to clean.

The Slytherin laughed. "Oh no. This room is an abomination," she said.

Hermione craned her neck peering to the top of the ceiling-high shelves. They were crammed with books, parchment, random items of clothing, quaffles, cauldrons, stuffed toys, glass vases, and myriad other objects. The two girls walked over to a nearby shelf, Hermione touched a stack of parchment, and read the title on the first piece of parchment aloud, "Ancient Runes early term exam, October 3rd, 1842."

"Oof. A test on a Monday. That's cruel," laughed the Slytherin.

"How do you know what day it was?"

"Well," she sighed, picking up another stack of papers and leafing through them, "I suppose I'm good with numbers...and have like, a photographic memory." She smiled at Hermione. "I'm K.Z., by the way."

"I kind of know..." Hermione laughed awkwardly. "I'm Hermione."

"Oh, I know," she said, "You're the talk of the school." Her eyes flicked to Hermione's arm where her scar was covered by her robes, "and I suppose the talk amongst my friends as well."

"And who might your friends be?" Hermione asked, trying to sound nonchalant. She pulled an empty box toward herself and dropped some papers in, too distracted to notice that she was making a mess.

"Mm...some Slytherins who like you, and some Ravenclaws who don't."

"Ah, that's peculiar. I didn't know there were any Slytherins who liked me."

K.Z. turned to her. "Are you sure about that, darling? There hasn't been a certain Head Boy in pursuit?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at her. "I-I'm not interested in Riddle...romantically, if that's what you're suggesting," she spluttered.

K.Z. laughed again, unperturbed. "Whether you're curious, indifferent...a bit fearful, I don't care. Knowledge is power, no? So do you want the story on the dark, mysterious Tom Riddle? I can tell you even if you don't. I am the only female he has gotten close to at Hogwarts. Girls seek me out, you know, hoping they can find out how be the next one. I usually tell them to bugger off." She laughed, "I don't have time to be some kind of advisor to the hopeless. But you, you seem to fit the bill. You two might actually work well.

"What?!" Hermione exclaimed, "I highly doubt that."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "don't take this the wrong way, but you see...he's quite reckless, temperamental - like you - just good at hiding it. Maybe in another world you were good at hiding it too," She looked Hermione up and down as if imagining her in an alternate universe, "Add to that you're smart, quite pretty, and obviously a powerful witch from what Salomar tells me."

Hermione wasn't sure if she should be insulted. She supposed the reputation she had so quickly gotten was somewhat merited. "So, You're friends with that awful girl?" Hermione looked at her, trying not to judge her choice of friends and failing.

"Oh bugger off. Don't look so surprised. I suppose she's a little high strung, vindictive, but overall nice to me."

"She hates refugees!"

"Sure, that, but she tells me I'm one of the good ones." She laughed. "You have to play their game here Hermione. This school is owned by the British-born purebloods. It was smart of you not to report the duel, the attack, whatever. It's probably what stopped her from writing her father about the whole mess, he's on the Board of Governors. Though she probably didn't want to amplify a story in which she was bested by a mudblood even with three wizards in tow. But watch out for her in Defense. It's a bloodbath where all bets are off between the transfers and the long time Hogwarts students." Hermione took this in, fidgeting with the new papers she had collected. "So what? No burning questions?"

"You've got this wrong K.Z. I don't want to be with him."

"Please! I honestly encourage it." She said, flailing her arms, the exams she was holding flapping exaggeratedly in the air, some flying out of her hands. "I have been hoping someone great would transfer in and distract him so I can openly pursue my next amour. Sneaking around is a serious waste of my time."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Ok. I suppose I have one question. A critical one, maybe. Why did you and Tom break up?"

K.Z. smiled, "I suppose that depends on who you ask. If you ask him and his stupid friends, his dashing looks and intellect couldn't keep him pegged to one boring hag for very long, he grew tired of the relationship and migrated to greener pastures."

"And if I asked you?"

"Let's just say that his...intensity began to frighten me," she looked at Hermione, fear evident in her large eyes, "and he's not someone you can just break things off with. But oh! We were so poorly matched. I realized when it was far too late. Sure, I would have been captivated by him anyways he's SO. Bloody. Charming." She said, hitting the papers on the shelf with every word. By now they had made a mess of the parchment on the large shelf and there were exams strewn all over the floor. "Could take over the world if he put his mind to it, that one. I was a transfer student like you, though I'm not a refugee, my parents just were worried about the quality of my education back in Morocco. I actually wanted to go to Beauxbatons, mind you, but they hate the French because we were colonized by them and they didn't want me to be discriminated against, the irony. Anyways, Tom didn't know how to categorize me and I suppose he liked that. In Morocco, we don't really bother with pureblood, halfblood, what not. It isn't exactly an egalitarian society but it's just different from things here. As the months dragged on I knew I needed to end it. Breaking it off was quite simple, he's not a very patient person, you see. I started to do things that annoyed him more and more, grow bothersome until things reached a peak around winter break last year. By then we were hardly talking. We came back from break and I saw him snogging another girl in the astronomy tower, quite an obvious set up if you ask me, I made a big fuss and was seen crying for a few weeks after. Everyone drew the conclusions they wanted."

"Sounds like you were really dedicated, did you really put on a show of crying when others were around?

"My sister died." She deadpanned.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, K.Z."

"No one here really knows. I don't talk about my personal life, and I'd advise you not to repeat this," she narrowed her eyes at Hermione.

"My lips are sealed. I take my secrets to the grave." She smiled at the Slytherin, feeling like they could be good friends, maybe. Hermione was surprised at how open K.Z. was being with her. They had many reasons to be enemies. But she could see how it served the Slytherin as well. She was probably being sincere that she didn't want Tom to torture her next boyfriend. And there was definitely an air of warning she was giving Hermione too. She wanted her to know what she was getting into without saying too much. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if she plotted this detention to be stuck here alone with Hermione. Hermione hesitantly asked another question, "The more I get to know Tom the more he seems to be a kind of...a bad egg. I don't want to judge, but he seems kind of crazy sometimes, he has even threatened to try to get me kicked out of Hogwarts already. Did you not see this early on? Why did you still fall for him?"

KZ smiled knowingly at her bushy haired companion. "Ah, that's the trap. He might act volatile at times but it's sort of overshadowed by the rest of him which is quite great. I swear it wasn't just his craziness that chased me away. I like dancing, and drinking elf wine, and parties with all of my friends present. Tom likes...reading dense texts about obscure topics, and doing things that can get you maimed or killed, and doesn't really get along with most people. However, he's a very thoughtful person, Hermione. He does horrid things, but don't we all? I'll admit I myself have been an arsehole many, many times. Salomar Ranke is one of my closest friends, after all. Don't get me wrong, I feel like I've matured somewhat, things happen in your life that make you realize there's more to it than the right clothes and what not."

After I caught him snogging Elaine MacMillian, a blasted Huffelpuff, he never said sorry. We didn't talk for a while and then resumed being cordial friends as if nothing had happened. But after we broke up, someone stole something very personal from me, a photo. It was, a photo I had given Tom, so stupidly, but which I made him give back to me after we parted ways. It was warded and in a drawer by my bed, there was only one. The person who took it sent me messages on an enchanted parchment, threatening to send it to everyone in the school, to use it to try to get me expelled. He wanted me to send him more pictures, to meet him somewhere private. It was horrifying. I was trying to investigate it on my own. I was so distraught and humiliated, and Tom found me crying in the girls bathroom, the one on the second floor that no one enters anymore for some reason. I suppose he was doing rounds, and he made me tell him what happened. He found out it was this stupid little second year, a harmless boy it seemed, but a real genius at wards. I didn't want anyone to know and he respected that. He got my picture back, which I then burned, and he got the kid into loads of trouble for something completely unrelated, I think for trying to steal exam answers from the headmaster's office. Right after it he bought me a book on advanced warding spells." She laughed, a sad expression on her face. She looked around at the mess they had created. "Blimey, I think we have made things much, much worse." Her and Hermione laughed at it together. K.Z. looked around the room thoughtfully. She pulled out a wand from her pocket.

"A second wand? That's illegal!"

"Oh shove off you goody two shoes, I just borrowed it from one of my roommates. What's illegal is letting us do this work by hand. Look at my hands," she yelled, "Do they look like they were meant to stack books? I want to be a healer, or possibly a trophy wife to an old, rich wizard. Either way, my hands will be very important."

Hermione furrowed her brow confused. The other girl in detention giggled in the background.


	11. Chapter 11: Floo or Flight

Chapter 11: Floo or Flight

:::

Her first week ended in a flash. She was quickly gathering all the right contacts. She did understand her grandfather's warning about taking her time, moving too fast. Building relationships, trust, it can't happen in a day. It was difficult to remember that the years of organizing, the alliances, her reputation, the lifetime of friendships and relationships she had, were all gone. She was a blank slate, whether she liked it or not.

At night she laid in bed staring at the ceiling and she felt herself spiraling. Into what? She wasn't sure. Back home, she had more stress due to the war, but she had a mountain of friends and family to look after her, people who she could count on. She did see Septimus and her Aunt Settima paying an inordinate amount of attention to her, but they didn't know her tricks. They didn't know the whole story either.

Alphard and Ginny continued meeting every other day. He was a wealth of contacts, after all. And he continued to explain the work Whorl was doing promising to bring her to a meeting later in the month. Ginny was visiting the Goblins' Union leaders, meeting with freed elves, and of course, the Order. It kept her busy, but in her few moments of rest, whether it be day or night, she had the sensation of looking into a fathomless darkness that threatened to overcome her. A drink was never far away, and it numbed the feeling but hardly erased it.

Mornings were more often the easiest, the brightest, the most filled with promise, so it was with optimism that she accepted Alphard's offer when he insisted she try an Irish coffee at a cafe where they were having breakfast. She'd had one before of course, but he insisted that she didn't know Irish coffee unless she had it the way Deedee, the freed house elf that worked at a local cafe, made it. And he wasn't wrong. It was good. She looked at Alphard, once again in his ridiculous disguise, the tattered robes and diluted polyjuice. The soft morning light doing nothing for his rough and ruddy skin. But his personality, all suavité and confidence shone through. He was quite the schemer and smooth talker, she was starting to realize. She had yet to see him interact with a larger group of people, but she was sure he was the type to be the life of the party.

He explained that Caterina was travelling for all of September. He was arranging a portkey to take them to Stirling when she got back, possibly right before the end of the month. No one could apparate directly into their encampment, but had to portkey in a distance away and be accompanied to the heavily warded location. Ginny was glad for the time being to get to know her companion more, to decide if she trusted him or not before blindly travelling to some unknown location. She wasn't sure she was ready to be alone with Alphard. Their foray into the mess at Grosvenor square both strengthened and weakened her trust in him. His connection to Sirius was fortunate for him, though from what she remembered, Sirius never actually knew Alphard.

The Irish coffee was a mistake, she realized, when she stood up to leave for her fire-call with Hermione and found herself stumbling. She had already missed it several times due to the oaf across from her, and it seemed urgent from the frantic scrawls on Hermione's owls. Possibly because she didn't want Septimus and Settima to see her inebriated at 8 o'clock in the morning, or maybe because Alphard had brought the most beautiful Hawthorne 366 she had ever seen, (a priceless classic in her time, but still a handsomely carved broom in 1944) she decided to fly to Hogwarts to see her friend in person. She could tell Alphard was also feeling a little buzzed from a slight pink tinge to his cheeks and the delight with which he handed his prized broom over to the witch.

:::

Dumbledore sat at his desk sipping tea and filling out some documents as Hermione kneeled by the fireplace, annoyed. She was hoping Ginny wouldn't miss the call again. It wasn't even about her fear of what Tom might do if she didn't give him an answer about Grindelwald. The previous day while she waited an hour for her friend's fire-call, she had gotten into an argument with Dumbledore about Caterina Whorl and the Striklanders, one she desperately wanted to avoid again.

A few months ago they raided the entire stockpile of dragons blood, he had yelled, their argument getting more heated than Hermione had intended. "Smashed thousands of vials! Released almost uncontrollable Goblin fire in the hall of records! Last year, they blasted a hole in the Ministry of Magic's hall of mysteries!"

"No one was hurt in any of those attacks!" she had yelled back, "And that action exposed that the unspeakables were conducting experiments on merpeople. It's cruel. We would have never known!"

"My dear, there are other ways to go about these things!"

And so it went on until Hermione had to leave for class. While she often enjoyed a political argument, she worried about straining their tenuous relationship. There was also Dumbledore's health to consider. The Professor, though much younger, looked worn thin in a way she hadn't known him to be when he was much older. She was beginning to think she should find another way to talk with Ginny . At 8 o'clock she threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and yelled, Weasley Residence, Hogsmeade. After a moment, Settima's cheerful face appeared in the green flames.

"Good morning Mrs. Weasley, is Ginny there?"

"Hermione! I suppose any minute now, dear. She's no doubt skulking about again with that Alphard." She said, somewhat distastefullly. At that moment there was a crash, and Hermione shielded her face as a shower of glass rained on her. Then a flash of red hair and Ginny tumbled across the floor and slammed into a book case piled high with some of Dumbledores many trinkets. The shelves shook violently and several glass and porcelain items tumbled off of them, each of which Ginny caught in quick succession as she lay recovering on the floor.

"Seeker reflexes," she said sheepishly, standing up and trying to place the items back on the bookcase.

Hermiones mouth hung open, of all the Weasley bad ideas, she thought. She snapped her head back to face the fireplace when she heard Settimas voice. "Is everything ok?" she said, trying to see past Hermione.

"Oh! Thanks Mrs. Weasley, Ginny has actually come to the castle! Talksoonbye!" She extinguished the flames before Settima's worried expression could take in the scene and turned to her friend to help her unload an armful of valuables back onto the bookshelves.

"Shall I repair the window or do you plan to exit in the same fashion?" Dumbledore said, not looking up from his papers.

"I'm sorry headmaster, s'was easier than stoppin'."

Dumbledore peered at Ginny over his spectacles. "Ginevra Weasley, are you slurring your words?"

"Musta been the impact..." She said, swaying slightly. Hermione steadied her before she tripped over her broom.

"Don't worry professor, I'll just walk her to the front gates, we'll chat on the way." Hermione said, shoving Ginny towards the door.

"Are you sure?, he said, looking doubtful, "I should accompany you both down to the infirmary."

"Professor, I insist, I know you have a deadline in an hour."

Dumbledore looked at the clock on the wall and then back to his desk. "I suppose, the several applications from Montenegro, and that girl still in Rome, and that last appeal..." He said, rifling through his papers, already lost in his work.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it!" Hermione quickly closed the door, as she left she saw the peculiar sight of the room covered in broken glass while Dumbledore, brow furrowed, hunched over a stack of papers.

Outside the office, she shoved her friend into the wall, a bit harder than she meant to do. "Do you have pixies in your arse? What would possess you to do such a thing?" Hermione whispered furiously at Ginny in the hallway.

The redhead clutched at her head, Hermione was unsure if it was from the crash or if she really was drunk. "You said it was an emergency! I didn't want to miss your call again!"

Hermione scoffed, "You truly are Ronald Weasley's sister! Let's go, I'm going to walk you to the front gates."

Ginny held Hermione back. "No, just give me a second to recover here, I promise, I won't make you late to class you swot." Ginny took a few deep breaths, clutching her head with both hands, broom awkwardly in the crook of her elbow, "just tell me what's wrong now," she said from between her fingers. "We'll start walking in a few minutes."

Hermione looked around, the hallways were filling with some early risers but no one was paying attention to the pair. "He said he'd report me to the board of governors if I didn't get him audience with Grindelwald."

"Oh bollocks," Ginny replied, "That could be disastrous. If they think there's a strain of transfers who are working with Grindelwald. If they think they have proof." She looked at Hermione, eyes wide, "What are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know! I just, I have been thinking about all the threats he's been making and I didn't want to tell you in a letter in case it's intercepted. I just don't know what to do. I feel trapped."

"Ok, ok, calm down," Ginny said, maybe more for herself than her companion, "When is Dumbledore going to defeat Grindelwald?"

"Next summer"

"Ok that's too long to wait to prove our innocence." Ginny frowned, and then smiled, a delighted one. "Let's tell him we'll take him to see some anarchists!"

Hermione looked at her friend incredulously, still wondering if this was the effect of hitting her head or alcohol. "No, absolutely not."

"Oh, don't worry about actually taking him. Just convince him we'll take him to meet them! At the end of the month. Tell him we'll take him on a trip with us at the end of September." Ginny hopped up and down in excitement, grasping the enormous broom she had speared Dumbledore's window with.

"A trip?" Exclaimed a voice from behind Hermione, "With the most beautiful redhead I've ever seen? Count me in." One of the Weasleys approached the pair, grinning widely.

"Count me in too brother! Hermione, who's your friend?" The second appearing right behind him.

"Uh...Ginny this is Leo and Al." said Hermione nervously, watching her friend's eyes dart between the two boys.

"Twins." she replied, sounding far away.

Oh bollocks, Hermione thought. She had to get them girl out of the school. Looking down the hallway that lead to the great hall her heart caught in her throat. None other than Tom was walking up the stairs. He spotted her and she saw him start to head toward them with purpose. There was probably not a more volatile situation to put Ginny in than to put her in a room with a young Voldemort and a ghostly reminder of her brothers. Add in: waking up before nine am, a dose of whiskey, and a possible concussion. There you have an atomic bomb.

Hermione thought quickly, and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to the three Weasleys, "You know, you would have to impress us first. And if it's one thing that my friend and I here love," She took Ginny's broom and held it out to them, "It's a good dare." All three redheads looked at her quizzically. "Here!" she held out the broom again, "I dare one of you to fly this down to the great hall singing the sorting hat song."

"Are you pulling my leg you dragon livered fool? We'll get detention for a week!"

Ginny looked confused, but interested. She raised her eyebrows at them and then snickered. "How about Hermione lets you copy her homework for a week."

The twins both lit up, and started wrestling over the broom, eventually ramming into the railing and tipping over it, causing the broom to shoot down the staircase with both of them hanging desperately from it, swinging as they went, the lines of the song echoing off of the castle walls.

The girls watched them flying, trying to contain their laughter. Everyone in the hallway rushed the banisters, laughing and cheering them on. Hermione looked up, the crowd was hiding Tom from view. She turned to Ginny. "I don't condone that, but I'll risk my academic integrity to get us out of here. Now we have to leave. Now!" She grabbed her friend and they ran down a secret passage that took them out to the grounds. Once on the grass they walked the rest of the way to the front gates without any more problems.

"You know that was Alphard's broom," Ginny said before they parted.

"Oops." Hermione laughed, feeling light with the rush of avoiding sure disaster, though her friend might have just thought she didn't want to be late to class. "Just tell him it was for the cause. He'll understand. I'll get it back to you next weekend."

Ginny nodded, and then looked at Hermione slyly. "Try not to break the speed limit when you fly back, granny" she giggled. Hermione just glared at her before stomping off to the castle, making her friend laugh even harder.

:::

Abraxas Malfoy was not used to being disturbed by pushy Gryffindors while he was studying. He wasn't used to being disturbed in the library by anyone at all. Most of his companions steered clear of the place, and the rest of the student body, by his second year, had already calcified into cliques that stuck to themselves. So it was, one evening after classes, he was innocently leafing through a banned text on dark spells on one side, and his defense against the dark arts textbook on the other one. He was preparing for class and the first dueling club of the semester.

Duels in their club almost always involved illegal spells. The teachers let the prefects lead it. So since Malfoy's fifth year on it went from being a group of bumbling quidditch players to probably the most lethal forum in Hogwarts history. All who entered swore an oath to secrecy but everyone knew what really happened when injured students appeared in the infirmary, saying they got hurt in the forbidden forest on a random Saturday night. But duels in defense _class _were also quite reckless. Merrythought's hawk eyes missed nothing so Malfoy had to conclude that she tacitly allowed dark spells she so often spoke against. As long as the attacker could heal an injury quickly and discreetly, anything was possible. Dueling with dark magic posed a real challenge as the thrill of it coursed straight to the head of even the most controlled and cool headed Slytherin. It was difficult to come down from the high enough to realize you were after all, in a Hogwarts classroom.

Last year, Nott had slipped, sending a new transfer student to the infirmary for a week. Merrythought held him after class, as well as Riddle and Malfoy, his supposed accomplices or possibly because she knew the other Slytherins followed their lead. For forty minutes she lectured them on why she lets classroom duels break the rules, how she believed a little rough wand work released the horrible tensions in the school, how shaking hands after was the most important part but we couldn't bloody do that if Nott's spell burned a student's arm off. He gritted his teeth and tried to look pleasant while Riddle was definitely holding back tears of laughter and Nott had the same stony look he always did.

If it was anyone else, the golden trio of Slytherin would have doled out some sort of severe punishment. But who would touch them? Even the teachers seemed to look the other way with the three, as Merrythought ended her tirade with a wink and a stay out of trouble.

Despite the way the rest of the school saw the trio, sometimes it felt like only Malfoy had any self control. Especially when it came to girls. It was unbecoming of men of their status, knowledge, raw magical power. Men who would one day own Wizarding Britain. In the past year, K.Z., after Tom had already broken up with her, goaded him into a prank that maimed a Gryffindor in their dueling club. And then Nott's endless arguments with his girlfriend frustrated him so much that he lashed out at his dueling partner in front of Merrythought, of all people. Malfoy could only shake his head. At least Nott hadn't used an unforgivable.

At the thought of unforgivables, Malfoy spotted the bane of his existence stroll into the library and sit right in his line of view. A wretchedly beautiful Hufflepuff with long legs, long mahogany hair and doe eyes as yellow as a cat's. He eyed her suspiciously across the library. He was sure she was messing with him somehow. He had slept with half bloods before, even openly pursued them, but for some reason this one was different. He tried to look down his nose at her but it never felt good. After she came back from summer in fifth year looking like a veela, all he could do was glare at her, a feeling of powerlessness growing in the pit of his stomach. She looked up at him and he snapped his quill, bowing his head and scowling deeply. Hunching over his textbook, he searched for a section on blinding spells.

He saw the Gryffindor approach him out of the corner of his eye and groaned internally. Why couldn't Tom take a vow of celibacy for one year and give him some peace? She asked about him, of course, and Malfoy only nodded to inform her that her blue-eyed beau would be joining him any minute now. To his horror, she pulled out a chair. He blinked, thinking he was hallucinating. "Aren't you late to blow something up?"

She crinkled her eyes at him as if they were sharing some inside joke, which they definitely were not. "I'm going to wait for Tom," she said airily, pulling things out of her bag and sitting down. Though she focused on a editing a long parchment of text, he saw her sneaking peeks at him and then widen her eyes at his book. Despite her seeming inability to keep to herself, she made no comment.

Unable to hide his annoyance but unwilling to tell the bothersome Hermione Payne to go away, he clenched his teeth and returned to his studies. Besides the fact that Tom had an obvious interest in possibly the worst Gryffindor he had ever met, he did not try to expel her from his table for other reasons. He had a feeling they were on thin ice. Not just his fellow blood supremacists in Slytherin, but the whole school felt tense. Worse than the year before when war seemed more distant and unlikely. If he was the one to light the spark that started it all off, it wouldn't be over a mudblood sitting at his table in the library.

The words in his defense text blurred before him and he sighed, putting the two books away and pulling out a novel he was reading earlier. He saw Payne once again sneaking glances at it and before he could think to hide the title she began to prattle on, half in French, half in English, in the way his family members indulged in when they wanted to show how cosmopolitan they were. She went on about how much she loved Dumas, and she didn't know he read in French, was he using a translation spell (of course not, he spat, insulted). He was not answering or just giving one worded answers until she said something that made him look up in confusion. She saw his curiosity piqued and unfortunately, was encouraged to continue.

"Have you tested your book?" she repeated. "It looks like a first edition." Malfoy blinked, grimacing but unable to hide his interest from the waste of air in front of him. "I saw a first edition once at the book store and tested it, to no avail. Was quite fun. Though the incantation is rather long, it is easy to do."

"What on earth are you prattling on about?"

"Don't you know the legend?" She widened her eyes comically. Malfoy mumbled a no before he could stop himself. "Dumas' grandmother was a slave in Haiti, a powerful witch but her powers were bound through the blood bonds that also kept her in captivity. His grandfather stole his father away from her and brought him to France where he was able to live as a free man and escape also being bonded to a master.

When the Haitian revolution succeeded, and, as you know, the wizards and witches within their ranks were freed, she tried to travel to France. But of course, due to corruption in the wizarding world, and the fact that there was no revolution here, the magical among the former slaves were not able to leave the island for decades. When his grandmother was finally able to come to France looking for him, his father, her son, had passed away. She found her grandson had become a corrupt, lazy adulterer, having as many as 40 different mistresses and numerous unknown grandchildren. She put a curse on him so that he could never find his own fortune. She wanted him to reform and make amends. This was right after he first published Les Trois Mousquetaires. Dumas had gifted 517 leatherbound copies away to pureblooded families across Europe hoping to spur interest in his work in the Wizarding world, and probably curry favor as he was a halfblood and nouveau riche. Supposedly you have to find the right book and say a spell and if it is the correct one, it will lead you to his family's fortune. He started asking around about his books but families caught whiff of something going on, and you know purebloods and their secrecy. He never found it. Died a pauper. I heard he lived quite a happy life despite it so maybe it was for the best, after all."

Malfoy was listening enraptured, and found himself leaning forward, chin resting on his fist.

Hermione smiled. "Do you want to try it out?"

Malfoy caught himself and scowled, leaning back and fiddling with his broken quill. "What do I need with a treasure. I'm already rich." He said, cringing at his own lack of tact.

Hermione laughed amiably, and Malfoy couldn't help but want to laugh with her. Almost. He forced himself to scowl more deeply. "Well I don't know," she said, "It could contain more than galleons. Or I suppose it could just be the start of a fun adventure." Despite his efforts at appearing bored, he felt a twinge of excitement. "Come on, give it here." Hermione took the book and upon looking at the opened page, she immediately froze, her fingers ghosting across the defaced page of the book. She looked up at Malfoy a horrified expression on her face, "You belong in Azkaban, you do."

At that Riddle sat down next to Hermione, looking laughably relaxed, opening his legs to take up all the space he could, leaning towards Payne and flipping his hair in that annoying way he did when he was trying to seduce some poor girl into a broom closet or into taking over his shift patrolling the corridors. He usually stalked into the library as stiff and emotionless as a dementor, but here he was, almost goofy, loose, fake. Malfoy taught him that swagger. He wanted to laugh out loud. If only Hermione could see the shifty, vindictive little first year he was when Malfoy met him on the train to Hogwarts. But Tom was a quick learner, and most people don't even remember that boy. Tom understood the hierarchy in Slytherin in a week and in less than a month he was completely changed, his demeanor no different than any of London's sacred twenty four, his control of magic and knowledge in classes already enough to make everyone too fearful to question his dubious heritage anyway.

It was during those first few weeks of school that the trio was solidified, Nott, Malfoy and Riddle. A friendship borne from a desire for power and a near fanatical lust for knowledge. Perhaps he would not have been so competitive about his grades if it weren't for Nott. Perhaps Tom would not have abhorred politics if it weren't for Malfoy. Perhaps none of them would have jumped headfirst into the bowels of dark magic if it weren't for Tom. Whatever diabolical depths they drew each other to, it usually ended well for them, and badly for everyone else.

Hermione looked at Tom, seemingly annoyed by his presence, though probably not noticing him subtly marking his territory. Tom smiled innocently at her terse expression. Malfoy smirked, it was nice seeing his pal not get everything he wanted. "I thought you didn't believe in imprisonment?" Tom said, his voice all too kind. Malfoy gave them a week. Then it would be the dementor walk and his toneless voice once again.

"I changed my mind. Look at this," she showed him the pages, leaning into him. Tom leaned in as well, draping his arm around her chair. It was sickening, it was. He had to roll his eyes at this poor, innocent refugee who was so focused on the book, one that he had randomly picked up from his family library before boarding the train, that she did not see she had her foot in the trap. Leafing through the pages, her expression grew darker as she saw all the notes Malfoy had taken. She stopped on one page, her lips quirking up. "What's this? Riddle, Nott, and Malfoy? Do you fancy yourselves musketeers? Who, might I ask, is D'Artagnan?" She looked at Malfoy, an eyebrow raised. Tom looked at her the way Goyle looked at a roasted ham.

"No one," Malfoy snapped. "D'Artagnan was an interloper who should have been eviscerated from the start."

"He is...the whole novel," she said quizzically.

"Enough of this!" Malfoy plucked the book from her hands, shoved his things in his bag and stood up from his seat. "Hermione here has been driving me mad waiting for you to arrive. I'll leave you two to your sickening little romance."

"Romance?" He heard Hermione shriek, receiving shushes from around the library as he swept into the hallway, taking the long way out so he would not passed the yellow eyed Hufflepuff.

:::

**Author's note: **It's been a real challenge for me to try to fold in some history and context while also pushing HG/TR's relationship forward, I promise the next chapter is all about them. I love this pairing, I really want to do it justice and to do so the way I'm imagining, I need give Tom some depth here. I don't think he's a psychopath while at Hogwarts, just power hungry, arrogant, insecure to a fault, with no adults to keep him in line. I don't think he truly cracks until long after Hogwarts, after decades of disappointment in the corrupt wizarding world and being propped up as the face of a fascist movement where the wealthy and powerful try desperately to maintain control in a world trying to change. Also, I think it's unrealistic for HG not to develop true friendships with other characters, especially strong women, so look forward to seeing more of K.Z., McGonagall, and the mysterious Caterina Whorl. 60k words in and I'm still in the first two weeks of the story. Would you all be mad if this went to 300k? Somebody help! LOL. If you've read this far, thank you for bearing with me through this.


	12. Chapter 12: Hogsmeade and Honey Mead

Chapter 12 Hogsmeade and Honey Mead

**Author's note:** (Kind of) explicit content ahead.

:::

He knew Hermione wasn't telling him the truth when she said they would go together to see 'the brewing revolution in the countryside.' The girl was buying time. The girl was also a terrible liar. After he questioned her, she literally gulped, her large eyes getting wider as he looked into them. It would be have been so easy just to take the information from her. But something told him Hermione was an Occlumens, or at least would feel the intrusion. He had to play nice, though he had done a shite job of it so far. He had to rein in his temper, be the calm and collected head boy he was known to be.

He was amused when Malfoy practically ran from the library muttering about Quidditch. He was the newly crowned captain and would probably run the team raw that night if only to quell his frustrations over Lystra Alsaesser. Tom noticed her on his way in, positioned in clear view of Malfoy's usual table and trying not to stare. Malfoy couldn't deny his interest in the girl, he was surprisingly friendly with her until fifth year when she grew breasts and made an appearance at the Yule ball in a gown that could only be described as scandalous. Since then, the two were helpless, too helpless to even choose different spots in the library though they always ended up unable to concentrate and spent half their time shooting not so subtle glances at the other.

After leaving the library, Tom returned to the head dorms where Minerva greeted him coldly. He smiled to himself. Over the past few years the annoyingly perceptive Gryffindor had made it clear to him that she didn't approve of his habit of 'preying on innocent girls.' No doubt she was currently moping about his pending relationship with her newest transfer friend.

"Minerva," he called, leaning on his door frame. "My book." She turned around, flustered.

"What do you want, Riddle?" She asked, "_Your_ book?" her piercing eyes dared him to challenge her. She was one of the few people at the school who he could stand toe to toe with, who would dare provoke him.

"The books on the second shelf are mine." He said, looking at the squat mahogany bookcase in their shared common room, the fire flickered off of the dark wood and the glittering golden lettering on the books. "I would hardly think Dippet would stock such tomes as _Deathe, Undead and Mortal Transfigurations_ in the Head dorms." He had been hoping to see if she would take an interest in one of his dark texts, and was surprised to see she picked that one. Dumbledore would have been scandalized, considering he was trying to fight Tom's independent transfiguration study. But Minerva, though she dutifully enforced school rules, was not the type to go running to teachers for every little thing. She often surprised him over the years by more often than not turning her head on his antics. They had a kind of unspoken truce, each turning a blind eye to the other's misdeeds. It was, after all, the foundation of diplomacy. The girl would make a formidable politician one day, but something told him she had no interest. You didn't read about transfiguring inferi if you dreamed of a future of luncheons and press conferences.

"I'm using it." She said through gritted teeth, "You need it now?"

"Yes, I just fancied some light bedtime reading." He smiled as she turned into her bedroom and with a flick or her wand the book flew into the common room straight at the fire place. She slammed the door behind her. Tom was just quick enough to save the book, and Minerva was lucky that she was safely behind her door and missed the brief flash of red in his eyes. She had no idea the trouble he went through to procure the text, and to see it thrown about so carelessly – well, he couldn't be too mad, he thought. She was trying to get back at him for what was essentially a useless show of power. He had no need to read it at that moment.

He sighed, he really was bored. This was a problem. They were barely into the first month of school.

He glared at her closed door before turning into his own room. He enjoyed provoking her if only because she blamed him for things he didn't even do. So what if he was a sort of leader? People were worse off without one.

And then the girls...

He did occasionally feel a twinge of remorse for how he may have treated them, if only because they were never discreet about their heartbreak. Mostly it annoyed him. They were all so naive. They couldn't see how it was never about love and all about power: how he could have someone so firmly in his grasp with a smile, a compliment, a lingering glance. And if a girl dared try to pretend she was over him, all it took was another small comment to make her melt, to see that he could still have her whenever he wanted, thus satisfying his carnal needs and ego in one fell swoop.

It was a cycle where he would find himself again and again swooping in on a guileless someone with a pretty face, who made a witty remark, who captivated him somehow and made him think she was almost an equal...until said girl would open her mouth and make him want to fake a case of spattergroit. But it was getting boring. Repetitive. Six years at Hogwarts and endless, mindless girls and he often decided he would rather read than spend any time with a female. Malfoy had made the case at the end of their sixth year that they spend their seventh year celibate, focusing on their studies and dominating the future of the wizarding world. They had agreed.

But June was so very long ago. In between, Tom had had a long summer of blissful solitude. The return to Hogwarts was jarring, the hordes of students, the girls who showed too much leg and those who buttoned up too much all provoking him the same and with it came a sort of hunger that heightened as the days passed and he still had not slept with anyone.

He wasn't sure if he really believed that Hermione could be an agent of Grindelwald. It seemed the most likely explanation. He thought about it often in the short time since he had met her, going back and forth, wondering again if he was just bored. Though the possibility of having access to a powerful dark wizard, one that Dumbledore himself seemed to fear, was so tantalizing he could not shake it. He could learn from him, take over the wizarding world by his side and when he had finally usurped all the knowledge he could: kill him and take his place.

And the witch in question? Sure, she was a new plaything, had already in her short time at the school displayed promising skill and knowledge of magic, and was quite beautiful, but that did not alone explain how he felt drawn to her. And though she denied it, he could tell she felt something too. Hardly an emotional connection it was...something more animalistic.

He shed his school robes, leaving his wand on the dresser, he wandlessly steamed the fabric and hung them in a wardrobe and walked naked into the bathroom off his impeccably clean and frighteningly sparse bedroom. He felt powerful without clothes on. Though his Slytherin robes did give him a feeling of prestige that he cherished over his hated muggle clothes, there was something about being able to walk across your room naked that he liked. Sometimes he would fantasize about walking down the great hall naked, nothing but him and raw power emanating from his skin, his wand in one hand, his horcrux in the other, arms raised as the school bowed down to him, crowned him master of the wizarding world. He stalked to the bathroom wearing nothing but the Gaunt ring, imagining his room as the great hall, and at the end of it, Hermione there, on her knees, her eyes full of desire.

He studied himself in the long mirror in the bathroom, his towering frame, cold eyes set in a face that made him so strangely likeable, he had to laugh thinking about it. He looked at his broad shoulders, the pale skin and the line of black hair that trailed from his stomach down to an already hard member. Turning on the shower he continued his thoughts about a curly haired witch. He entered the stream of hot water and touched himself, with each stroke imagining her there with him, thinking of how she looked smirking down her nose at Malfoy over his stupid French fairytale, wondering how she would sound if he could touch her, if it were her hands wrapped around him; thinking of her singular fury as she pelted Ranke and her lot with enough dark spells to make his head spin; as she looked defiantly and somewhat tremulously at him as he questioned her about her supposed master, Grindelwald.

:::

Hermione found herself paired with Tom in Potions. She was confused when she saw Oliver Wood and Minerva sitting together and even more confused when the future Dark Lord took Wood's usual place. She gave him a quizzical look as he sat down next to her.

"Didn't you realize?" he said, brushing his hair from his face, "Since the N.E.W.T. level Potions and Herbology classes are complementary, we are keeping our same pairings. Only reason we didn't follow our previous potions pairings in Herbology is because of the little accident you caused last week, it caused some more students to drop the two classes." So Hermione was stuck with Tom for the rest of the year in two highly involved classes. She grimaced as she unpacked her books. "Just us four," he continued and then quirked his head at Malfoy and Nott. "Boys, I wonder if we have found our fourth musketeer?" Malfoy rolled his eyes.

Indeed the two pairs joined together to start making a potion that would not be completed until the start of winter break. It was a simple blood replenishing potion, but an ancient version of the potion which, when brewed over the course of multiple moon cycles, instead of the more modern version's hour, created a much stronger result. While the three boys started collecting materials from the supply cabinet and taking notes on the instructions, Hermione appeared with a heavy pewter strainer filled to the brim with dried fireberries.

"Why have you brought them here," said Malfoy, "We have to remove the skins and seeds outside or it will burn the rest of the ingredients, including our books and desks." He moved to levitate the strainer out of the room but Hermione countered his spell angrily, her temper getting the best of her as she was already annoyed at being stuck with the three Slytherins. It fell back over the cauldron with a loud thud that shook their table and the supplies that had been stacked on it, causing everyone in the class to look over at the group with alarm. A few students ducked under their desks. She saw Slughorn flinch violently and knock over a row of empty glass vials on before looking over at the group fearfully, but he could not see anything as Malfoy and Nott was blocking his view of the desk.

"Everything alright?" Slughorn called over nervously, "boys, Miss Payne?"

"Nothing to worry about, exercising extreme caution as always, professor!" Malfoy replied, a fake smile plastered on his face. He turned to Hermione his expression transforming. He opened his mouth, but Hermione cut him off before he could start.

"If you think you're about to give me instructions or possibly even _scold_ me, I will make such a huge scene that we will all be removed from this class." Malfoy glared at her but closed his mouth. "And if I must remind you, I did not cause the accident last week, I did not lift my wand at all in that class." Nott looked on with what Hermione was surprised to see was amusement. She looked at Tom and he raised his hands as if in surrender.

"You don't need to extract the juice outside," she said bossily, "I know a spell. It's a tad bit complicated but I've perfected it over the past year. Look here," she said, and before they could stop her she made several figure eights with her wand and pointed at the pot of berries. "Surtrocainas," she hissed. The dried berries shrivelled up neatly, the liquid rising to cover the skins and just as quickly as it rose, drained into their cauldron.

The boys all froze. Tom quickly looked around in alarm before fixating on her with a strange expression.

"Are you completely unable to function in polite society?" said Malfoy. The usually stone faced Nott, surprised her once again as he covered his mouth as if to hide laughter.

"What?" said Hermione, confused.

Tom raised his eyebrows. "I've never seen anyone use such a violent blood letting spell to extract fruit juice. I've actually never seen anyone use that spell at all. You could literally get sent to Azkaban for using it."

She could feel blood rushing to her ears. She had been out of school for so long she didn't have a good memory of how strict they were at Hogwarts about using certain spells. Of course she had never used it on a person, she hadn't even made that connection for so long, but Tom was quite right. If used on a living being it was just a calmer looking version of Snape's infamous Sectumsempra spell. "Oops." She shrugged sheepishly.

"Oops?" hissed Malfoy, "Are you next going to frolic in the Forbidden Forest to play with the dementors and grindylows? I admit," he choked, looking quite like Lucius Malfoy for a moment as a vein clearly throbbed at his temple, "I am impressed by your control over that spell - but are you bloody serious?"

Nott was shaking with silent laughter now, as if Hermione getting sent to Azkaban was the funniest thing to happen all year. Malfoy shot him a dirty look. Tom looked at the pot grimly, as if he was plotting how to cover up a dead body.

"Look," Tom whispered calmly, levitating the strainer out of the cauldron and into another pewter bowl without holes in it. "let's just discard the skins and seeds and pretend we did it the way were supposed to in the book. We just have to dissolve them with the bluebell flames before putting the ash in the compost so they disintegrate properly."

At that moment, Slughorn arrived, sticking his head in the cauldron and then strainer in only the way a master would, his experience making him seem fearless as he handled potentially dangerous substances. "What an interesting technique, how did you manage to keep the skins so perfectly in tact while extracting the juice? You know we have so many uses for the skins if they're in good condition." He started listing the uses for fireberry skins as the four students looked at him nervously. He looked around at them smiling as they all avoided eye contact, faces taut with worry.

Tom opened his mouth to speak but Hermione cut him off. "I used the Sutrocainas spell professor," she blurted out, "I apologize. The boys just told me it's illegal here, I swear I didn't know."

"Oh dear," said Slughorn, looking quickly around to see if any other students heard, and appearing like he would rather not have known that information. "Oh dear."

"I used it all the time back home – never on people of course - I didn't think it would be a problem."

"Oh dear," repeated Slughorn, swallowing thickly as he mopped his sweating brow with a handkerchief and staring at Hermione, then the fireberries, then Hermione.

"I can go collect more and use the spell recommended in the text, if you'd like. I don't mind at all." Hermione said, moving to gather the bowl with the discarded skins and seeds. Tom put his hand gently on her arm.

"Don't worry, professor," he said, "We'll dispose of the skins and seeds with bluebell flames and make sure Hermione doesn't do anymore of the casting." Hermione's mouth fell open and she glared at Tom in betrayal.

"Yes m'boy, bluebells. Leave no trace, no trace at all," Slughorn nodded, as if in a trance, and walked away quickly.

The rest of the class progressed without incident, though Hermione noticed curious glances in their direction as the other students, all of whom had left to prepare their potion, trickled back into the classroom, probably wondering why the four students did not venture outside. Hermione also noticed that while many other students had a potion that looked like murky purple water, theirs was a creamy, deep lavender, with a rich aroma wafting off of the top.

Professor MacDougal, the Herbology professor, made an appearance in the potions classroom to see how the NEWT level students had fared with the fireberries they had picked and set out to dry in her last lesson. A tall, heavyset woman with thick graying locks and a perpetually amused expression on her face, she wandered the classroom, peering into students cauldrons, asking questions, ladling out bits of the liquid and feeling the texture of the potion between two fingers.

When Professor MacDougal approached Hermione and Tom's group, they were mostly done with their work. Nott and Malfoy were deep in discussion about something to do with a case their fathers were reviewing on the Wizengamot while Hermione stirred the potion listlessly, trying to avoid looking at Tom who was pretending to finish an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but whose eyes she could feel boring into the side of her head.

MacDougal peered into their cauldron, and slapped Tom on the back in what she probably thought was an amiable gesture, causing him to leave a streak of angry ink blots on his essay. "Alexi!" she trilled, "How did you manage to achieve such a gorgeous lavender hue? I feel like cutting my own arm off just to taste this!"

"Tom," he said very quietly, a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes plastered on his face, and looking like he would also like to cut off her arm. "It's Tom, Professor." Professor MacDougal made no sign that she heard him as she looked almost lovingly at the bubbling cauldron.

Slughorn appeared swiftly at her shoulder, looking nervously into the potion, "These crafty students!" he exclaimed shrilly, "we shouldn't embarrass them with our praise, it looks like they are busy preparing for their next classes, let us leave these overachievers," he said, attempting to pull her toward another group of students. She looked at his hand and then at him with ire. Catching her expression, Slughorn removed his hand, as if burned, and grinned a bit sheepishly.

"Well, if you think that an appropriate use of your class time," she said, disapproval in her voice, and made her way to the next group of students, Slughorn hurrying after her.

"Alexi?" Hermione asked incredulously. Tom did not acknowledge her comment, but grimaced at his essay as he siphoned off the spilled ink.

"She's been calling him that since first year," said Malfoy, not bothering to suppress his glee despite Tom looking up to glare at him, "Apparently he looks just like this Russian student she had once. She either calls him that, or Timothy...or like twenty other names."

Hermione looked at Nott who was strangely still. At least one of the two had some self preservation. It was shocking to see that Tom allowed people to openly make fun of him. This wasn't the Voldemort she was expecting, even though he was just a teenager, he was still a sociopath who had already committed multiple murders. Malfoy continued making fun of Tom by asking him to pass him things and calling him by the wrong name each time. Tom just glowered and silently packed up their supplies. Nott joined Hermione to ladle the base potion into six glass bottles.

When they were done, Tom shoved Nott aside and joined Hermione to bring their potion bottles to the front of the room so that Slughorn could label and store each group's work. She placed her bottles on Slughorn's desk and turned to leave, but Tom grabbed her unceremoniously by the back of her robes and dragged her back. "Hey!" She exclaimed, shoving his hand away. She looked to Slughorn but he was busy levitating the students' bottles into the storage room and noticed nothing. Tom ignored her complaints and grabbed her arm, holding her in place.

"Oh, professor," Tom called out, "Are you still having your first Slug Club party this evening?" Most of the class had cleared out by this time, leaving Tom and Hermione and his two minions waiting in the back.

The professor looked up at what was most likely his favorite student. "Yes! You best not miss it!" he said, delightedly.

"Of course, not for anything," Tom drawled, his tone suddenly warm and charming, "I was wondering, is there any room for a new student? I feel like Hermione here is such an exceptional transfer - I know you've been busy and might not have had the opportunity to notice, but I thought it would be a tragedy to exclude her."

Slughorn's eyes darted to Hermione, as if just realizing she was there. "Oh," he said almost in a moan, eyes darting to the potion they had just deposited on his desk. As Slughorn turned to levitate their potions to the back Hermione took the chance to whisper to Tom while keeping her eyes on Slughorn, "What are you doing? I don't want to go to the Slug club."

"Why not? What are you so busy with tonight?" he murmured into her ear, leaning so close she could feel his breath on her skin. She shivered, her body betraying her. She went to reply that it was none of his bloody business but Slughorn had already turned back to face them.

In the end, Slughorn reluctantly extended an invitation to Hermione after Tom intimated how wonderful and inclusive his professor would seem by inviting one of the new transfer students as the club _was_ full of mostly purebloods, didn't he notice, and didn't he want to present the best pictures for the school, set an example for the other students?

Tom had to drag Hermione from the Potions classroom after Slughorn mildly suggested she leave her wand in her dorms. The professor, as usual, distracted with his work did not notice the murderous expression on the Gryffindor's face or the ungentlemanly way she was removed from his room.

They had a Herbology class that same day, and despite the unfortunate pairings, Hermione could already see the class and the Herbology professor becoming one of her favorites. Professor MacDougal specialized in many different subjects, potions, charms, arithmancy, and divination, and used Herbology to bring them all together. It was a fascinating take that Hermione had never experienced before. While she liked the professor, she also feared for the woman's life. She remembered every student's name but Tom's, calling him Timothy, Alexi, Warren, and a long list of other names, each having no discernible attachment to the last.

Despite her fears for her professor, it gave Hermione deep sense of joy to see the thinly suppressed rage at the teacher calling him names. She turned to Nott and Malfoy and saw once again Nott strangely still while Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows struggling not to laugh, tears welling in his eyes.

"Timothy!" called the Professor, from the front of the class. "Please come get me this pot! It's too delicate to levitate."

"Tom," he muttered getting up.

As he reached to a high shelf for what was indeed an absurdly ornate flower pot, MacDougal complimented him on being such a tall, helpful young man. Tom's expression as impassive as ever, he pulled the pot off of the shelf, and began to place it on the table nearby, "No Lorimer! On my desk, please." At that there was a loud bang from Malfoy and Nott's table. Hermione looked over to see Nott on the ground, a terracotta pot smashed on his chest as he shook with silent laughter.

:::

Hermione walked to dinner in the Great Hall with Minerva, laughing about Herbology. She was in a better mood than she had been since she could remember. Perhaps the class had reminded her that the Dark Lord was still just a boy and Hogwarts was full of good people. A bubble of happiness was growing in her chest. One which quickly deflated as Minnie mentioned Slug Club later that night.

Hermione slumped onto the bench at the Gryffindor table, putting food on her plate barely touching it. "Riddle, that twat, guilted Slughorn into inviting me this evening."

Minerva raised her eyebrows as she shoveled food onto her own plate. "Consider yourself lucky. If you aren't famous or well connected, it's near impossible to get a golden ticket. Sluggy only picks the shiniest. He didn't give me an invitation until fifth year when Dumbledore nominated me for some transfiguration award, I got to go to America and meet lots of brains from all over and when I came back, there was my first note requesting my presence at Slug Club."

Hermione glowered into her soup.

"You don't have to go," Minerva continued, eyeing her, "but refusing an invitation like that, after the Ice King himself had to pull some strings for you - I wouldn't recommend it. You're already on thin ice as far as Hogwarts politics goes."

"Fine line?" Interjected Lou through a mouthful of beans and potatoes, "You've blasted down the boundaries of decency my dear! And I'm thrilled that I've started on this journey with you."

"Potus threatened a month's detention for that stunt you goaded us into," added Leo, grinning broadly, cutting his steak into tiny pieces and taking delicate bites. "But Dumbledore talked him down, he likes to win Quidditch matches, you see. Speaking of, I owe you a broom – You better collect it fast. All the seventh year Gryffindors have been eyeing it."

"How much detention did you end up getting," Hermione asked guiltily.

"None!" Lou practically shouted in excitement, spraying potatoes as Soraya grimaced next to him, Audrey and Peumona crinkled their noses and shielded their plates. Lou continued, oblivious to his audience, "But we have quidditch practice every night this week!" He patted Hermione on the back, "couldn't do it without you!"

Minerva narrowed her eyes at Hermione, "what does that mean?"

Hermione grimaced. She had forgotten that she agreed to give them homework for a week. She only shared two classes with the twins so she didn't feel too bad, but she wasn't sure if she should test McGonagall's tolerance with this one. "I just said I'd help them study Minnie, nothing to fuss about."

"Yeah!" said Lou, winking exaggeratedly at Hermione as Minerva's lips became thin.

Slug Club

Hermione wore her travelling cloak and brought Alphard's broom to Slug Club, it was a balmy evening but there was a promise of cold in the wind. She was hoping to sneak off to Hogsmeade after making a brief appearance. The first club of the year was a casual affair held in the largest greenhouse near the Herbology classroom. She entered the crystal doors and deposited her cloak and broom near the entrance, feeling fresh and windswept from having taken the broom for a test ride around the Quidditch pitch.

Looking around at the space, she was quite taken aback by the beauty. The high domed ceilings were made transparent, giving a clear view of the night sky; the Hogwarts castle, lit from below, shone in stark relief against it, looking as stately and handsome as ever. There were floating orbs in the open space where MacDougal would sometimes hold classes but now held the handful of Slughorn's favorite students. The orbs gave off soft yellow lights but left the space in semidarkness so as not to disturb the thick foliage that lined the winding greenhouse paths that led to the dark shadowy far end. There was a table with grapes, cheeses, meat pies, and large glass decanter filled mead.

She picked up a goblet, and the decanter rose into the air and tipped over to fill it. Taking a sip of the honey mead, she shivered slightly in pleasure, it was deliciously cold and only slightly sweet. She sipped her drink and looked around the greenhouse. Professor MacDougal was the only other professor present. She noticed MacDougal deep in discussion with Slughorn and a tall, wiry Hufflepuff who was gesturing at a towering plant behind them. It had broad leaves that shot straight into the air. The green striped stalks ended at pointed tips that were oozing an amber colored substance. MacDougal was nodding thoughtfully and looking at the plant, her head tilted while Slughorn's overly zealous smile made him look like he'd already had a few glasses.

Hermione was shocked to see Hagrid arrive, looking rather awkward and hanging on the edge, nibbling on an entire wheel of cheese and small mountain of grapes. Minerva introduced them, glossing over the grizzly story of expulsion. Hermione beamed with finally being able to meet the young Hagrid, and they got to talking about magical creatures and he even invited the two over that weekend to help him brush the fuzzy Loping Bakaris.

It was probably due to the excitement at talking to an old friend that made Hermione forget that the crystal goblets kept refilling themselves, and so she was unsure of how much she had drank by the time she found herself between Malfoy and Riddle as Slughorn bored them with a long list of people he thought the promising young students should meet until he mentioned someone that made Hermione almost spit out her drink. Instead she snorted a bit out her nose so it dribbled down her chin and she mopped it up quickly, though not before she saw Malfoy wrinkling his nose in distaste. She felt like sticking her tongue out at him.

Recovering, she turned to Tom with wide eyes, "You've met Glinda Hopkirk?" she exclaimed. Hopkirk was a staunch advocate for goblin rights, and a preeminent legal historian. Ginny was having such trouble finding someone with the right texts to start building a case for wand equity. Hopkirk would surely be able to point them in the right direction.

"Met? They're practically old pals by now." Slughorn said merrily. "Tom has been in correspondence with her since last year, she is advising him on an independent study." Hermione was so impressed she had trouble hiding it.

Tom raised his eyebrows. "I can tell her you'd like to speak, sometimes she comes to Hogwarts for tea with Slughorn and I meet her for a chat as well." Hermione beamed. How could young Voldy be interested in someone who cares so much about Goblin rights? A tiny hope expanded in her that maybe a young Riddle had aspirations that had to do with something other than world domination. She shook herself. That was a thought. She put down her goblet and noticed it was still filled to the brim with the amber liquid. She had to leave fast or she would hardly be able to walk, let alone fly. She said her goodbyes, pulled on her travelling cloak and had just grabbed Alphard's broom when Riddle appeared in front of her.

"Let me walk you back to Gryffindor tower, Hermione." He said, grabbing his own cloak and following her out of the greenhouse. 

"Well, thank you for the offer, but, I think I'm not going back inside just yet." She mounted the broom and faced Hogsmeade, feeling slightly unsteady. She tried to take off, but couldn't bring herself to kick off into the air. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes to counted to three but couldn't muster the courage. Was she about to repeat Ginny's blunder from the day before? She gripped the wooden handle and looked at Tom with a slightly frightened expression.

"Fear of flying?"

"No," she said, unmounting the wooden death trap. "To be quite frank, I am not sure how much I've drank tonight. Good night, Riddle," she said flippantly, walking towards the gates, the broom in tow. She was level headed, thinking clearly, she reminded herself. She wasn't going to crash into the Weasley's house nor skewer herself on the front gates.

Tom caught up to her again. She sighed, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

"I am happy to leave you to what will surely be an epic reentrance into the castle, but I suppose I have incriminated myself by leaving Slughorn's early and with you. You're now my responsibility." He said.

Hermione scoffed, stopping in her tracks. She was about to tell him off when he added, "and you should be nice to me, now. I don't only have the threat of telling the board of governors about your antics, but isn't there a certain Hopkirk that you're hoping to get in touch with?"

Hermione contemplated him, narrowing her eyes shrewdly as he smiled down at her. "Fine, come along, Alexi." She turned toward the front gates but he spun her around to face him again.

"Very funny, Payne," he said, to her surprise, he actually did look amused. "now it seemed to me like you were hoping to fly down to Hogsmeade village. Why not continue with your original plan."

"If you have not noticed, you half wit, I feel steadier on my feet."

"But walking is so boring," he said, taking the broom from her grasp and examining it with interest. "Where are you heading to anyways?"

"The Hog's Head, just leaving this with the bartender and coming back. A quick trip."

"Well, that's not too far," he said, swinging his leg over the broom. Before Hermione could protest, in one swift movement he pulled her sidesaddle onto the broom and kicked off. Hermione shrieked, one arm on the broom and the other clawing onto his robes. The terror morphed into a controlled, low level panic, but she was too scared to move, to protest. Looking over the lake, as Hogsmeade drew nearer, she felt the notes from _a whole new world_ coming to her head. She imagined Riddle watching the muggle cartoon that she had seen with her cousins when home one winter break. A laugh escaped her mouth.

"Something funny," he said.

"Don't worry about it, Riddle."

"Well since you seem to have composed yourself, would you mind, I can hardly breathe."

She realized she was clutching at his tie so tightly it was probably strangling him.

"Oh," she let go of him, but it caused her to nearly lose balance, she swayed dangerously before Tom grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him with one hand, the other guiding their flight. She was leaning into him, perhaps more than she needed too, perhaps she was more inebriated than she had thought. She tried not to think of the way he felt so solid and warm, or the way he smelled like fallen leaves and fresh grass. She thought of a red eyed snake faced monster. Or tried to. When he landed in front of the Hog's Head she leapt up as if burned, and didn't make eye contact as she took the broom from him and walked into the Hog's Head to see Aberforth behind the bar in the empty, sullen pub.

"Good evening Hermione," he said cheerfully, "you here for the meeting?"

"Meeting?" asked a smooth voice from behind her. Hermione froze, turning to see the Heir of Slytherin in the doorway looking strangely like Ron after he won a game of Wizard's chess.


End file.
